The Mindsifter
by Khrysalis
Summary: He is injured, hunted, and wordless. Those who care for him search for him, and time is passing and hope is dying. But even should they find him, how can they repair his shattered mind?
1. Wordless

Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin was created by Nobuhiro Watsuki-sensei. Khrysalis only borrows the rurouni and his friends for entertainment.

* * *

1  
Wordless

Running was life. Hiding too.

They were the only things he remembered. In his mind, it was all he had ever done.

It was always dark. He was afraid of the darkness and yet glad for it because it helped him to hide. It was also always wet, and the living stone that made up the walls, floor and sky was always covered with moss. The muffled wetness silenced his footsteps.

He shivered in the cold air. He was always cold. He had no shirt, and he was barefoot. He wore the ratty, tattered remnants of a hakama that had once been white. It did little more than preserve what pitiful dignity he had left, and certainly offered him no warmth.

Staying small and silent, he crouched as he made his way through a narrow corridor. There was light coming from somewhere. He was fearful of light, because light usually meant people, and people usually meant him harm. Still, he had survived this long by peeking in on strange lights. Sometimes his broken mind could understand if he could associate the people with kindness. Sometimes there were people who were gentle and offered him food and a chance to get warm.

The tunnel he crept through dipped low, revealed below that there was indeed a fire and just two people sitting near it, kindling it dry, dead moss and bits of wood. They seemed to have a little dwelling there as well. A deep groove in the stone, like a cave. He saw rags and tattered blankets folded neatly inside.

The occupants of the area were an old man and woman, who, unlike him, were dressed warmly, even if their clothes were badly worn out. He found that he remembered them. His shattered thoughts came together for a moment, helping him remember these two had showed him kindness on several occasions.

Taking a deep breath, he moved cautiously toward them.

The old woman saw him first, and smiled gently at him. "Look, Daisuke. It's the boy again. He's come back."

The man turned. The sudden movement make him want to turn and run back down the corrider where he had come, but the woman called to him in a gentle voice, evidentally having dealt with him many times before.

"No, Boy. It's all right. Look." Moving slowly to avoid frightening him, she stooped over her fire and picked up a dry hunk of old bread and held it out so he could see. "We have a lot extra today, Son. I have an egg I could boil for you as well. Come on, it's okay."

He moved toward her hesitantly. He was afraid, as always, but the fear lessened as he found her more and more familiar. He reached out and took the bread from her hand.

He was very, very hungry. Instincts screamed at him. He wanted to cram the bread into his mouth to ease the pain of hunger, and the weakness and dizziness that came with it, and so that the woman wouldn't have time to change her mind and take the food back.

For some reason, though, he hesitated again. He looked at the stale hunk of bread in his hands, and then back at the woman, and flicked his gaze to the man, Daisuke, then back to the bread again. These people had so very little, and they were offering their food to him. Somehow, he felt like he didn't deserve their kindness.

He sucked in his bottom lip, damming up tears, as he very carefully tore off a small piece of the bread and held out the larger piece back to the woman.

She shook her head, looking back at him. "No. No, Boy. We have plenty. We have enough to share with you. Please take it."

He realized she was looking like she might cry. He was confused, but he certainly didn't want to make the kind woman feel bad. Slowly he placed some of the dry bread in his mouth and was rewarded with a smile. He couldn't help but to smile back, glad that he had made her happy.

He fell asleep by their warm fire, and when he woke while they still slept in their little cave, he crept away, not wishing to lead those who chased him straight to the kind old couple.

A few hours later, hiding in the darkness, he forgot about them once again. He could only hold a the memories he needed to survive: run and hide.


	2. Sanosuke's Journal

2  
Sanosuke's Journal

_Kenshin, I'm tired. You have no idea just how very, very tired I am. Everything around me seems to wilt, lifeless._

_Jou-chan goes about daily routines. She very rarely smiles. She never laughs. Yahiko is even worse. He only seemed to speak when spoken to, and his training and chores are unfocused and angry. After meals he vanishes to be alone. Even I can't get a rise out of him. _

_Megumi doesn't visit much anymore. What's the point? She has patients to look after and has no medicine that would treat the fear and pain in our hearts, and looking at us makes it even harder to deal with her own._

_Seven months. Seven months of this living hell. Seven months of watching hope die slowly in two people that I love. Seven months of not knowing what happened to the man I had come to think of as a brother._

_Kenshin…_

_I haven't exactly moved into the Kamiya dojo, but I do spend most of my time there now. Just in case… In case of what? In case you might come back? In case…in case _he _came back? _

_Most of the time I just sit on the porch, replaying what happened in my mind. Dinnertime._

_Yahiko and I were arguing, about what I don't remember. You were sitting across from us, grinning. I had paused in my argument with the brat to tease you too, but you just shook your head. Too self-deprecating to argue, I guess._

_I just…don't remember our conversation. Whenever I replay the scene of dinner that night in my head, I see our mouths moving, the dinnerware banging on the table, but there is no sound. I can remember your face well, Kenshin. You had such a content expression on your face. You looked just so…content. What other way is there to describe it? At the time, I had berated myself for becoming so sentimental, but I know you, my friend, have been through a lot. It was…nice to see you happy, to see you enjoy just being with us._

_Kaoru had caught my gaze and smiled. She was thinking the same thing._

_Then, the silent scene in my head gains sound as I remember the knocking on the door. Wondering who it could be, Kaoru got up and went to check. I remember a strange look came over your face, and you got up quickly to follow. As did Yahiko and I._

_Our visitor was a boy. He didn't look like he could be more than fourteen or fifteen, and I remember the first impression I had was how very tired he looked. His shoulders sagged, and there were deep bags under his eyes. His hair was sandy and though not long, a bit shaggy. His tired eyes were ice blue._

_Then the memory loses sound again… Kaoru's mouth moves, probably asking what she could do for him. Things happened slowly, ended quickly._

_The young man held up this weird little toy. It was a network of strings with shards of crystals and bits of glass hanging from the strings. He twirled the clinking mass of it and…_

…_I couldn't MOVE!_

_It was worse than when Udo Jin-e had used his shin no ippo on me before. Then, I had been able to move and speak with a force of will, and even break it. This was…different. There were no bonds holding me. It was more of great, tired feeling that robbed me of the will to move, that shoved it just into the back of my eyes where at least I could still control my thoughts._

_I looked at you, and you were as still as Yahiko and Kaoru. Your eyes moved, though. They widened in shock, and then narrowed in fury. You felt what I felt._

_The boy, still holding up the crystals and strings, moved slowly, dragging one foot behind him as he moved. I saw the limb was twisted slightly, possibly from some other injury. If I could have only moved, I'd have done the same to his other leg._

_He reached out and slid your sakabato from your belt, and moving to Kaoru, he reached out for her right hand, and closed her fingers around the sheath._

"_I'm sorry," he was saying. He looked at you. "You are about to suffer more than any human should ever suffer for anything, no matter the crime. I've kept no grudge against you, but for those that do, I at least have control over one thing: I won't allow any harm to come to your friends. At least the revenge he wants exacted from your hide won't be through the suffering of those you care about."_

_I saw your eyes widen. I wanted to scream, to lash out, but there was nothing. No impulse would go through my arms. I couldn't even make a fist._

_The boy, still holding his toy high and carefully making sure we could all still see it, moved to the middle of the room. "I'm allowed to leave you with two things: an assurance and a clue. The assurance is that he isn't going to die." The boy snorted, the little bastard seeming almost…pained. "Although death would be better than what's going to happen to him. And the clue--"_

_To make the whole matter utterly surreal the boy actually began to tell us a story! A fairy tale, for God's sake! It was so ludicrous…yet even now, I can remember every word._

"_There was once a man named Dadarusu, who lived far away and a long time ago in the land called Greece. Dadarusu was a master craftsman and inventor. His brilliance was unmatched, his progress unchecked. But he had a single sorrow: his son, Ikarusu. Dadarusu loved his son dearly, but Ikarusu did not share his father's brilliance. The boy tried, but his mind was not quick and sharp, and his hands were clumsy, prone to break things that required gentle handling._

"_Dadarusu might have let this sad twist of fate to slide and love his son anyway, had it not been for the coming of his nephew, Taro. Taro showed incredible promise where Dadarusu's own son did not. Taro's hands were sure, and his mind spewed ideas as quickly and even more freshly than even his uncle's._

"_Dadarusu should have been pround to have him as an apprentice…but he was not. He was angry at the injustice. Taro had the skill and talent that should have belonged to his own son, Ikarusu! What was more, Ikarusu knew this as well. The more time Taro spent showing Dadarusu his ideas and new inventions, the more Ikarusu became sad and withdrawn, yet while still trying to be an active part in this new household._

"_Then one day Ikarusu's clumsy hands broke a mechanical toy that Taro had been working on. His cousin's patience snapped, and he ordered him from the workshop. As Ikarusu walked away in tears, Dadarusu was watching, and his ever-taut rage had snapped. In a fit of abject madness, the greatest inventor who ever lived dragged his nephew to the roof and threw him over the side."_

_The boy paused in his fairy tale, his eyes looking past us all, like he was watching it happening as he narrated it to us. Perhaps it was the power of the crystals on strings, or the pain in the boy's voice and the haunted look in his eyes, but my impotent anger didn't seem at that moment to be as important as his story…_

"_Dadarusu was horrified at what he had done and went willingly to be tried at court, and they banished him from his home city. He took his son and fled to another court, and served a king with a queen who had amorous longings for a white bull sent by the god of the sea._

"_He helped her fulfill her longings by contracting the body of a female bull out of wood which she was to be inside while she was visiting the white bull. The result of these actions was a half-bull, half-man creature. Dadarusu had to construct a monstrous maze prison to contain the beast, and the king had also found the maze to be very useful for getting rid of other people and things he never wanted to see again…_

"_Eventually the monster was slain by a hero who grew tired of the king demanding the tribute of youths from his city to feed it, and the king was so enraged by this and the fact the hero ran off with his only daughter, he threw the inventor and his son into the maze instead._

"_But of course, Dadarusu having created the maze himself, he knew his way around. Leaving the maze was a simple, if lengthy matter, and he and his son stayed for a while on the edge of the beach--for the maze was at the edge of the island--trying to think of a way off._

"_Dadarusu eventually through much research and toil created two pairs of giant wings that could carry him and his son off the island. As he strapped the wings onto the back of his son, he warned him carefully not to fly too close to the water, for the wings would get damp and make it difficult for him to fly, and not to fly too close to the sky, for the sun would melt the wax holding the wings together, and they would come apart._

"_But Ikarusu was not very bright, and he was so impressed with the exhilaration of flying he immediately forgot his father warnings and flew higher and higher into the sky. The sun destroyed his wings, and the boy fell into the sea, a sea which still bears his name, even now."_

_The boy's shoulders had sagged lower, the crystals on strings clinking together._

"_That man loved his son, and in his longing to love him even more through the boy's inadequacies, he literally loved him to death. The chain of events leading to this caused a lot of pain and monstrosities, including that terrible maze and the monsters and lost souls trapped within there still."_

_The storyteller trance was broken, and I struggled to move, but I was still held in place._

_He smiled sadly at us again. "The story I just told you has everything in it that you need to know to find Himura-san again, should you decide to look for him later. But I warn you against doing that now. If you…ever see him again after today…you won't even recognize him."_

_I'd had enough. Rage boiled up inside me, and just as I was sure whatever magic he was using on us couldn't constrain the scream inside me, the boy held up his toy and gave in two hard shakes. There were the sounds of the crystal and glass clacking together and a bright white light lit up behind my eyes as he began to spin it. The last thing I saw as the whiteness completely covered my vision were two big men coming in behind him. They were moving toward you._

"_Get away from him!" I tried to say. Maybe I did, since the boy turned to look at me. Then the whiteness turned into darkness._

_Kaoru, Yahiko, and I woke up in Megumi's clinic four days later with such monster headaches not one clear thought could pass through. Megumi and Doctor Genzai wanted to know what happened, wanting to know where you were, Kenshin._

_That's what we all want to know…_

_We went back to the dojo as quickly as we could gain our feet. Your gi and your tabi and sandals were in a heap on the floor where you had been standing. For whatever reason, they had stripped you of all but your hakama. Your sakabato was still on the floor where Kaoru had fallen._

_At first, all of us in a burning rage set out to look for you. I even went to Kyoto to get the help of Aoshi and Misao and the Oniwabanshu. Right now they look for you while I sit in the damned dojo, rotting. I'd love to be with them, but it was obvious I was more of a hindrance than a help. As Aoshi questioned people, it was all I could do not to grab people and shake or threaten knowledge out of them._

_The calmness in which he handled things, the subtleties, I can't stand it. Until he can find out where you are, my strength is useless._

_With nothing left to do, no way to help, nowhere else to look, Kaoru and Yahiko train, clean the dojo…watch the doorway, looking for Aoshi or you… Yeah, like you'd would walk through that door, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly and saying something like, "This one is sorry it took so long to get back, everyone. But this one first had to turn his opponents good, and show them the error of their ways. They've changed for the better now, and they're coming to dinner with us--"_

_And Kaoru would land a devastating right hook, Yahiko would be stomping you and slamming his bokken against your skull, and I might have to wait at least twenty minutes before I could get in a punch on our already swirley-eyed, oroing rurouni._

_I would give anything for that twenty-minute wait._

_Oh, God, Kenshin, I am so, so tired._

_Maybe it's the emotional stress combined with having to do the laundry. Damn all laundry, and whoever decided people need to wear so many clothes anyway. I have a good mind never to wash even my own clothes again, just buy new ones every month or so, because I've seen enough suds and water to last me a lifetime. It's just that…laundry was always your thing. I had long ago adjusted to the fact that the reason you like the boring, homely chore is because it relaxes you. Scrubbing grass stains out of Yahiko's gi probably also scrubs away memories of your hands washing blood stains out of your own from years back._

_It's such a familiar thing to see you doing, how could I let Kaoru or even Yahiko sit by _your _well with _your _baskets using _your _soap? Knowing every moment they did our rurouni's favorite chore because you weren't there to do it. I could just see it: Kaoru would be in tears before she even touched the water. She is a determined person, and the laundry would be cleaned, but she'll just end up wetter than the clothes. And Yahiko…well, all I can really say is I don't really feel like fixing the washtub if he snapped and smashed it up in a grieving rage. _

_So I guess this means I'm not a freeloader anymore, huh, Buddy?_

Kaoru carefully replaced the book, face burning with shame. She had only been straightening up a little, and had stumbled on a little book with loose sheets of paper. She had no idea that Sano had kept a journal, but here it was. Sanosuke's neat handwriting filled the pages of a beat-up old book. That had been his last entry, written as if it was a letter to Kenshin.

She thought she might not have any more tears, but she still wasn't surprised when fresh ones welled up in her eyes.

"I'm tired too, Rooster Head," she whispered, making sure the book was secured in the folds of his futon, things looking as if she had never touched them.

She wandered back into the kitchen. There had been times when she had wondered what life would be like without Kenshin…and she had spent the last seven months finding out.

Truth was a thing made of hooks, that caught the "what ifs" the "buts" and the "whys" as they fell around it in this crumbling world where she now lived.

If Kenshin had died in one of his many battles since coming to stay at the dojo, then they would have buried him. Kaoru would have lovingly tended his grave, planting flowers on it, making sure it was washed clean every morning. She would have eventually been able to draw strength from Kenshin's memories, his silly rurouni smile, his clumsiness_--_pretended or not. In time she might have been able to go on, mastered her sword art, trained her student, maybe even loved again. But never without his spirit following her wherever she went, watching over her.

If he had simply wandered away, she would have gone after him until she found him and brought him home again. She had done it before.

This, though…this was different. If he had died, he would be safe within her memory. If he had left, she would at least know that he was safe, free, able to defend himself.

And now she knew for sure he wasn't. That boy had made it clear someone meant Kenshin harm. Every day it took effort not to imagine what those people could have done to him in all this time that passed.

Still, the boy had always promised he would not die. As long as he was alive, there was always hope…right?

"_The story I just told you has everything in it that you need to know to find Himura-san again, should you decide to look for him later. But I warn you against doing that now. If you…ever see him again after today…you won't even recognize him."_

"Oh, Kenshin..."


	3. Back in the Dark

3  
Back in the Dark

"I've got him!"

Three men and a huge, hulking woman backed out of a crevice as their leader, Oaka, dragged out the small figure of a young man.

He yelled nonsensically and fought like a wildcat, but he was weak from hunger and lack of rest, and his assailants outnumbered him.

"_Nnn--_! _Nnn--_!"

"Hold still!" Oaka complained, trying to get a better grip.

"Damn! He was hard to catch. We've been chasing him for almost two weeks now," the woman complained.

"Yeah, well, we've got him now. Let's get him to the rainbow room."

"It'll be nice to see light again," one of the men, the youngest, said with enthusiasm.

"Ka! Ker…keh…keh….k-_kaaa_!" Their prisoner still struggled violently, but his focus was on the word he was trying to speak. Curious, the burly woman leaned to look into his face, wondering what he was trying to say.

"_KAORUUUUU!"_

The sudden, powerful burst from his lungs startled his captors into loosening their grip. Faster than they'd ever seen another human move, he tore from their hold and vanished into the darkness.

Their shouts and heavy footfalls helped him hide and avoid them until their own weariness caused them to at least go home and get some sleep.

The wretched soul they had been chasing, though, did not sleep. Arms wrapped tightly around his legs, he mumbled quietly to himself, tears running down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead into his knees. "K-kaoru…Kaoru…dono…Kaoru-dono…" he whispered, again and again and again… He had to remember the word. The name. He could not forget…could not forget…

* * *

"Aoshi went to…Greece?"

"Yes, but he should be almost back by now."

"Why the hell didn't he tell us?"

Misao balanced the teacup on her open palms, staring into the mirky liquid. She sighed deeply. Her once-huge reserves of energy had burned away, and she was going to need at least an uninterrupted twelve-hour sleep to get back on top of things, get back in the fighting spirit. After all, Kenshin still needed her help.

"Misao-chan?"

She looked up into Kaoru's wide, sad eyes. She repeated Sano's question: "Why didn't Aoshi tell us he was going to Greece?"

Misao shook her head, exasperated. "I don't know! Maybe for the same reasons he wouldn't let me come along. Maybe he didn't want to get our hopes up? Maybe he thought it was too dangerous? Maybe he thinks he's on a wild goose chase, but he's got to check it out anyway?" _Maybe he's found out Himura is dead, and he's traveled to Greece to bring his body home?_

She closed her mouth over the thought before it could be formed into words. Kenshin was _not_ dead. Even if she wouldn't trust anything his abductor said, being Oniwaban, she of all people knew there were worse ways to punish someone than death. Like burning out his eyes or cutting off his hands, or_--_

Sanosuke unwittingly rescued her from the onslaught of her own imagination by suddenly getting up and sauntering outside.

The teacup in her hands was creaking dangerously. She forced herself to loosen her grip.

"I didn't even think of it," Kaoru said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I didn't think of it. That Kenshin might have been taken to Greece. I mean…I should have thought of it. The young man told us that story, that Greek legend, saying it was a clue to find Kenshin. But still, I never considered they'd take him so far away…"

"But we don't know that they did."

"Then why would Aoshi bother to travel so far?"

Misao set down her cup, the tea inside stone cold. "A lot of crying has been done these past months. Mostly by you, Kaoru. You're more honest than I am. I can't even admit to myself that some nights my pillow seems a little damp."

The edge of Kaoru's mouth tweaked slightly at her remark, the barest shadow of a smile. Misao sighed once again, one from deep within her fatigue. "I am completely, totally, utterly, and desperately dry of assurances or words of hope. So I won't bother to offer any this time. Everything that I can possibly say has already been said. So…" She placed her hand of Kaoru's and squeezed. "So all I can do now is tell you that I'm going to keep looking. I won't give up. Even if it takes me a thousand years, if I have to travel the entire world, one way or another, Himura is coming back to this dojo."

Taken aback by this sudden, apparent oath, Kaoru stammered, "M-Misao-chan, you don't…I mean_--_"

"No, I mean it with everything that I am. I once told that fool that I wasn't going to let him get away with being miserable." Misao clenched her fists. "He once made a promise to me…"

_Aoshi is no demon. Not just yet! He must have held himself back at the last instant. Maybe he didn't even realize it, but it shows that even if his conscious mind is following in the way of demons, his soul is still striving to be human. Aoshi's resting place is not death. It is here. And this one promises you that he will be brought back._

The words Kenshin had spoken that day were etched as if with his own scraggly handwriting in her heart, and just like then, the words, spoken with his gentle voice, gave her a new strength she had no idea she had.

Her eyes burning with conviction, Misao looked at Kaoru and burst out: "He made a promise to me…and he kept it! Now I make you a promise, Kaoru-san. I promise you, Himura will be brought back!"

Kaoru stared at her for a moment. Then she smiled, her first real smile in a long, long time, through the tears that were suddenly and generously running down her face. Then she repeated the same words _she _had said to Misao that day. "It's good to hear… right Misao-chan?"

"Yes," Misao answered, pulling Kaoru into a hug.

Yahiko, standing unnoticed at the back of the room brushed a sleeve across his eyes. "Yes," he echoed quietly.

* * *

"He got away again?"

"Yes. Even in the condition he's in, he's very, very good."

"He hasn't had a 'treatment' in a while, Tan. I don't care how you do it, but catch him. …What's that look for?"

"Nothing, Hikaru. I'll…catch him."

"What, Tan? Feeling bad for what you've done?"

"You don't have to mock me."

"Well, if there was anyone else here to mock, I'd mock him instead. So you will have to do, my dear cousin. …All right, there's that look again. Would you like to tell me what you're thinking, or shall I go back to mocking?"

"We should have just killed him."

"Kill him? But this is so much more in the way of poetic justice."

"Hikaru…"

"It's true, Cousin! Years ago we had a chance to escape our fate, and its his fault we cannot! Therefore, I feel it's only fitting that before _we _fall, _he_ falls. First. As far and low as any human being can fall."

"Is that the only reason you want revenge, Cousin? Because he unknowingly caused us to go the same way we've always gone? Destroying his mind and causing him to crawl around in the dark collecting injuries from the monsters that live the shadows won't bring back our salvation."

"You're right, of course. But it's going to make me feel better. Tan?"

"What, Hikaru?"

"_Catch_ him."


	4. None Sing So Wildly Well

4  
None Sing So Wildly Well

"Kenshin! No, come down from there!"

Daisuke ran to the clump of rocks the redhead was attempting to climb. He grabbed him about the waste and pulled him down. Daisuke was old, but Kenshin was only half the weight he should have been, maybe even less.

"Kenshin!" Daisuke said firmly once he was safely on the ground. "No! Do you hear me? Don't climb up on anything like that again!"

He immediately regretted his harsh tone. Kenshin's wide, violet eyes filled with tears, and his mouth trembled. "I…I'm sorry, Daisuke-dono."

"All right, all right," Daisuke said quickly, in a gentler voice. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Boy. Hey, why don't you go and help Aijo with the mushrooms?"

The old man watch him limp away, shaking his head. Kenshin did not use his left arm, kept it held tightly to his chest, even while he was sleeping. His broken walk was bad enough that Daisuke couldn't really tell which of his legs were injured. What the hell had possessed him to try to climb up that high with only two good limbs?

His wife was angry when he joined the two of them at the fire. "You know better than to yell at him!"

"I apologized! I'm sorry, all right? He just gave me a scare, that's all."

"N-now, now," Kenshin said, his wide eyes flicking back and forth between them, evidentally fearing they might have an argument.

She reached out to pat his knee comfortingly, then went back to stirring the very thin stew she was making. Daisuke was still marveling at how amazing his wife could be in tight situations. Since Kenshin had come to stay, she had actually found a way to make food stretch farther, and so much so that they both actually got _more _to eat than before he came! Of course, most of it was in the form of soup and stew, as thin as it would go, but a full belly was a full belly.

Aijo, who did not like silence, again started teaching Kenshin the song they had been working on for the last few days. Not only did it drive away the oppressive darkness with its lively notes, but it made the young man happy as well. After those frightened and sad faces they had seen him make these past months his smiles and laughter were like the long-forgotten sunshine that lightened the hearts of the old couple.

_In Heaven a spirit doth dwell  
"Whose heart-strings are a lute";  
None sing so wildly well  
As the angel Israfel,  
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),  
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell  
Of his voice, all mute._

_Tottering above  
In her highest noon,  
The enamored moon  
Blushes with love,  
While, to listen, the red levin  
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,  
Which were seven,)  
Pauses in Heaven._

_And they say (the starry choir  
And the other listening things)  
That Israfel's fire  
Is owing to that lyre  
By which he sits and sings-  
The trembling living wire  
Of those unusual strings._

_But the skies that angel trod,  
Where deep thoughts are a duty-  
Where Love's a grown-up God-  
Where the Houri glances are  
Imbued with all the beauty  
Which we worship in a star._

_Therefore thou art not wrong,  
Israfel, who despisest  
An unimpassioned song;  
To thee the laurels belong,  
Best bard, because the wisest!  
Merrily live, and long!_

_The ecstasies above  
With thy burning measures suit-  
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,  
With the fervor of thy lute-  
Well may the stars be mute!_

_Yes, Heaven is thine; but this  
Is a world of sweets and sours;  
Our flowers are merely- flowers,  
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss  
Is the sunshine of ours._

_If I could dwell  
Where Israfel  
Hath dwelt, and he where I,  
He might not sing so wildly well  
A mortal melody,  
While a bolder note than this might swell  
From my lyre within the sky._

Aijo had not lost the melodious voice that had drawn Daisuke to her many years ago, and the boy had a steady, clear tenor, filling their cavern with a harmony that needed no music to accompany it.

By the time dinner was finished, the song had been sung at least seven times, sometimes with Daisuke joining even though he could barely carry a tune.

There was no actual way of telling day from night in the labyrinth. They refered to the time they wanted to sleep as "night," and the time they woke as "morning," when for all they knew their night could have been the middle of the day or their morning could actually be the middle of the night on the surface.

Yet this was the time they chose to sleep. Daisuke was rolling out the bed clothing while Aijo washed smudges from Kenshin's face with a little of their water and an old rag. He was ticklish, she had discovered, and couldn't resist coaxing smiles out of him by dancing her fingers across a sensitive spot under his chin.

"Stop, Aijo-dono!" he pleaded, giggling, and pushed away her hands.

"All right, you sillies. There's food to be hunted in the 'morning,'" the old man reminded, walking to the water bucket to wash.

"Yes, yes. Bedtime, Kenshin-chan."

He came with her obediently to the pallet of blankets they had managed to scrounge up just for him. She tucked him in as she lay down, as she did almost every night, pulling the blanket to his chin with a wistful smile.

She had never had a son. It might have been possible, in younger days, but it would have been a crime to have a child to be raised in the dark prison where they lived. Caring for Kenshin had made her realize just how much she regretted never being able to become a mother.

He wasn't a child, exactly, but he was simple, and child_like_. Effects of the Mindsifter, of course. They had all been through similar experiences, but never had she seen anyone as badly used as he. In fact, she suspected that it had been used on him more than once, which would easily explain the crouching, terrified animal he had been when she had first seen him. Unable to speak or understand words, he at least understood gentleness, which had drawn him to visit again and again.

It was the last time, fourteen sleeps ago, that he had come back with his broken arm. After that Aijo had flatly refused to allow him to leave the camp anymore. At first, she and Daisuke had taken turns sleeping so that one was always awake to make sure Kenshin didn't sneak away. Being with them all time time, Kenshin began to remember language. He began to speak again and his vocabulary increased and his understanding grew. Memories began returning to him.

It was the old couple's hope that with more time, his mind would heal fully. In the meantime, they simply couldn't let him wander in the tunnels anymore. There were people whom the darkness had turned into monsters out there, those whose facing of the Mindsifter had done more than the jumbling or removing of those memories.

Aijo was jarred from her thoughts by Kenshin's hand on her arm.

"Aijo-dono?" he said, his eyes large and questioning.

"Yes, Kenshin-chan?"

"There's something wrong with me," he said softly. It was something he had known all along, but had not always been able to voice until recently.

Still, she hesitated a moment before nodding.

"What's wrong with me, Aijo-dono?" he pleaded. "Tell me?"

"Well…" How could she explain it to him? "You're...sick, Kenshin-chan."

"Sick? How? How am I sick?"

"…You're sick…in your mind, Kenshin."

His eyes widened and he turned a little paler. "No…no, not that!"

She quickly put her hands on his shoulders to soothe him. "But you're getting better, Kenshin-chan!" she pointed out. "Look how well you've done. You can talk so much now, and you can sing songs and help cook, and you're remembering lots of things now. Remember 'Kaoru' that you talk so much about?"

Mentioning Kaoru usually brought a happy, though faraway, look to him. But this time it didn't. His expression crumbled further and his eyes filled with tears for the second time that day.

"She…she won't want me anymore, if I'm…sick. She'll be mad."

"It's not your fault…" Aijo stopped. The boy had an exasperating habit of feeling that everything was his fault, which seemed to have been a part of his former personality, perhaps much in the way he liked to call everyone by the archaic "dono". She felt like he needed to know he wasn't to blame for his condition. But then again, she had no idea if he really was or not. Everyone who dwelled in the labyrinth had sinned in one way or another, and there were even some who _deserved_ this kind of imprisonment. For all that she knew, she may sheltering the broken memory of a former killer in her cave.

She doubted it, though. Kenshin, a killer? With a face like his?

"Whose fault, then?" he asked.

She sat back with a sigh, wishing she hadn't taken the conversation so far. Still, she pondered, trying to think of a way to explain it so that he would understand.

"It's the Mindsifter's fault," she said at last. "It's in a room. A room with a falling wall of water one one side. The room is filled with strings where…where _shiny_ things hang. If you look at the shiny things when they're still, you're all right. But if the patterns of the shiny things are changed, they can make you sick, up here." She tapped her temple.

"So that's how I got sick? I looked at the shiny things when they changed?"

She nodded.

"But I'll get better?"

She smiled. "Yes, I believe you will. _Now _we'd better stop talking and get some sleep, Kenshin-chan. You can help us find mushrooms and roots when we wake up."

"Okay. Good night, Aijo-dono."

She smoothed back his red bangs and kissed him on the forehead. "Good night, Kenshin-chan."

* * *

He could see them, but they couldn't see him. Tan watched the scene carefully. It was incredible. Never had there been anyone who had been subjected to the Mindsifter twice and had recovered to the extent he had. In fact, no one ever recovered at all. The old man and woman, they had certainly never regained the memories taken from them. There were those who had been like Kenshin, still wandering the tunnels without language or humanity, surviving on what they could find. They had never regained what was taken from them either.

What had Himura Kenshin done? Somehow willingly repressed certain parts of his mind so that the Patterns passed over them? It was a theory, and one he had never considered. Tan told himself this was why he didn't bring him to his cousin immediately. He had to study him further, find out how he was doing it. That was true. Yet it was also true that he was just stalling…and he didn't really know why.

He rubbed his tired eyes and pushed away from the stone where he had been leaning. Just a few more days. A few more days to study former hitokiri and then he would bring him to Hikaru. After all, the routine of the old couple didn't look like it was about to change any time soon.

He turned and made his way through the tunnel, dragging his twisted leg behind him.

He couldn't sleep again. Sanosuke wandered outside the dojo, where he'd spent the night again. He was starting to think he might as well just bring his stuff and move on it before it got stolen by punks who figured he'd abandoned his old place.

He paced quietly, kicking around a small stone on the ground. His thoughts wandered unrestrained. He thought about his captain. He thought about Kenshin. His mind even wandered to his fight with Anji the priest. It was Anji's example that had kept Sano from allowing his soul to become twisted in the feelings of abject grief and helplessness. It was like a giant stone chained to him by the neck that he was forced to drag if he wanted to move forward.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he kicked the stone closer to the dojo. Perhaps he ought to give up this damned waiting! It was driving him insane anyway. Maybe he'd find a way to stow away to Greece or something. Well…that idea was absurd. He had no idea exactly how far away Greece was, but he did know that it was Really Far Away, and chances were boats would have to be changed several times before he'd make it there. Maybe even walking across land to change boats, in countries where he wouldn't know anyone, and wouldn't even be able to speak the language. He figured it wouldn't be so easy if he couldn't talk his way into paying his tab later at any restaurants he encountered.

On the other hand, the alternative _was_ to stay at the dojo and keep doing the laundry for Kenshin.

Sano had almost talked himself into running to the docks that very night when he was startled by the sight of Shinomori Aoshi coming down the path toward the dojo.

Abandoning his kicking-rock, Sano raced up the path to meet him. He stopped short.

Aoshi looked like hell. The man looked exhausted, and he was scuffed and bruised as though he had been in a fight recently.

"Is Misao here?" he demanded before Sano could ask any questions of his own. "I intructed her to come here and wait."

"Yeah, she stayed here all week--"

"Good. Leave a note for the girls and the kid and then come with me. I know where Battousai is."

* * *

_Author's note: _

_Israfel: From "Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allen Poe", 1849_


	5. Tell Me

5  
Tell Me

An instant after Sanosuke slid open the door, a bokken flew out of the darkness and connected with his face with a tooth-jarring _crack_.

Falling back, he slammed into Aoshi, who had been just behind him. He had time to note the almost-inaudible grunt of pain before he reached out with his hands and caught the end of Yahiko's bokken before it could strike him again.

"_Tell me you weren't going to!" _the boy screamed, wrenching his weapon away. His face was streaked with tears and contorted with rage as he raised the bokken again. _"Tell me you weren't going to leave a note and run off to find Kenshin without me! Tell me you weren't just going to leave us all here waiting, waiting, WAITING!"_

He had heard.

Yahiko swung the bokken again, and Sano caught it again, only this time, with a subtle twitch of his knuckles, the top foot of the wooden sword burst into sawdust.

"I _wasn't _going to! I was coming in here to wake all of you and tell you Shinomori knows where Kenshin is, you little--!"

"Kenshin…?"

Misao and Kaoru, dressed in sleeping garments stood nearby. Misao supported Kaoru, who had become very pale and looked weak in the knees.

"Aoshi-sama, are you all right?" Misao exclaimed.

Aoshi turned and stared at her strangely. His mouth opened, then quickly closed. He put a hand to his forehead as his eyes flicked between her and Kaoru. His next words were completely and totally unexpected. "_You're_ Misao, right?"

* * *

The kid was humming again.

Daisuke shook his head, amused, as Kenshin hummed or sang little tunes, some taught to him by Aijo, others he either pulled from his healing memory or maybe even made up himself.

The boy had recently taken the stick that Daisuke usually used to carry buckets from the main caverns. For some reason, he liked carrying it around, mostly leaning on it like a walking stick as he poked in moist corners for things edible that might grow in the gloom.

"_Give me the air the happy folk breathe…"_

Daisuke could only hear the words faintly Kenshin sang, but what snatches he caught he thought were nonsense, but sweet. Just like the kid himself. Very silly but very sweet.

The old man stopped to examine a group of toadstools he discovered in a rock crevice. There was a light little breeze, the sweetness of fresh air…and voices, ghostlike and carried on that feeble wind.

"…cross-shaped scar…Hikaru-sama…'sifter…for the third time now…"

Daisuke backed away from the crevice. They were looking for Kenshin, and they were just on the other side of the wall. They wanted to use the Mindsifter on him for the _third _time?

Daisuke tore his gaze from the wall to look at him. Kenshin was still examining around rocks, where water constantly ran, making the walls smooth and slick, still singing softly with a small smile on his face. He still didn't have much to wear, but he was cleaner now, even well-groomed under Aijo's patient instruction, much happier, more…peaceful.

The image of him shivering and scared, smudged and skinned from crawling in tunnels…the wild eyes, filthy, tangled hair spreading wildly about him…

What in God's name would he become if…a third time…!

"What should I do?" the old man whispered. He had to help Kenshin. He had become very important to him and his wife in the short time they had known him. But if he did, what would happen to them, to Aijo, if they defied the Penna cousins?"

The labyrinth was fairly simple in the tunnels where he and his wife dwelled, and the other side of the wall was assessable through a short bend. They would be there any minute. He had to make a decision.

He hesitated only a moment more before making the only decision he knew he would be able to live with.

"Kenshin, quiet!" he hissed, walking quickly towards him.

Kenshin looked up, eyes wide. "Daisuke-dono?"

"Listen to me. I want you to very quickly and very quietly walk back home, where Aijo is. Don't stop or turn around. Go."

Kenshin meekly turned and began limping back the way they had come. Daisuke followed behind him, straining his ears. The voices were getting stronger. They made another turn, and after a few minutes of walking Daisuke noticed Kenshin's pace quicken, his breath getting a little sharper. He must have heard them too.

Another turn, this time left at a fork. No one lived to the right because there was an underground lake that way. Through a low arch, around another low bend…

They were getting much closer, moving at a much faster pace than an old man and a lame young man.

"Look, someone dropped mushrooms!" Daisuke heard someone exclaim clearly not far behind them.

He glanced down in shock, realizing he had dumped most of the mushrooms from the basket he carried, maybe even leaving a trail. Cursing himself for a fool, he dashed forward, he grabbed Kenshin's right arm and ran. Together they passed one of the main caverns mostly used for sleeping. They drew attention, but it couldn't be helped.

Through another very low corridor, so low even Kenshin had to stoop, and the warm light from the camp led them the rest of the way home.

Aijo stood up quickly when she saw them run in. Daisuke threw down his basket and shoved Kenshin toward his wife, who caught him as he stumbled. "Aijo, take him and run! Out the back!"

"D-Daisuke?"

"Daisuke-dono--"

"No time to explain. Don't let them catch you. _Go!_"

Kenshin's hand firmly gripped in hers, Aijo threw her husband a terrified glance, then turned and ran past their camp and toward the series of tunnels in the back. It was a labyrinth, and there were chances they'd get lost and never find their way back…

He had no time to think of it as three visitors squeezed through the low entryway and entered his camp. As he turned to face them, he thought of that stick, which Kenshin had kept a hold of, for whatever protection it was worth.


	6. We're Coming!

6  
We're Coming!

Impatience was so thick in the carriage the air was becoming electrical.

"Izu-shoto…?"

"The Izu Archipelago," Aoshi confirmed, "We're looking for an island west of Oshima. It's so small, it doesn't have a name. It's owned by someone named Penna Hikaru."

"Penna Hikaru? That's a strange name," Kaoru said.

The carriage fairly flew along, with Aoshi, Kaoru, and Misao sharing the inside, Yahiko and Sanosuke riding on the top.

"How did you find this out? If you never actually made it to Greece, where have you been all this time?" Misao meant for her question to be light, but her eyes on Aoshi were nervous, uncertain.

He saw through her and frowned deeply in her direction. "I've already apologized, Misao. It was merely dark, and you stood in the shadows where I couldn't tell you apart."

_You're Misao, right?_

Misao turned her troubled gaze to the floor of the carriage. "Y-yeah, Aoshi-sama."

There was a pause, as though Aoshi might say more, but he relaxed his shoulders, letting the matter drop.

"When Battousai first disappeared," he began, "I at first tried tracking him and his kidnappers through ordinary means, but no one had seen Battousai, who is hardly indistinct, or a lame, blond young man accompanied by bodyguards. With so long a time having passed, I gave up on that and examined your visitor's 'clue' for a time. It was a Greek myth, and I had nothing else to go on, I decided to head for Greece and see if this giant maze on an island existed."

Aoshi hesitated another moment, collecting his thoughts. Kaoru and Misao were completely intent on what he was saying, and he was very aware that Sanosuke and Yahiko were leaning over the sides of the carriage, peering in the windows and listening as well.

"I never made it onto the boat. While I was waiting, passengers on the latest boat from Europe debarked, and I saw your visitor."

Sanosuke's voice called from out the window. "You mean that kid?"

"He fit your description. He was blond, looked exhausted, had dark bags under his eyes, and he was crippled. He also had bodyguards, three huge men, and a woman who was a ball of muscles."

"He was disembarking a ship from Europe?" Yahiko piped. "Then Kenshin _is _in Greece…?"

"I thought so at first, but I decided to follow them. What he did to you and Battousai made me cautious, so I kept my distance. I tailed them from Tokyo all the way to Ishinomaki."

"Ishinomaki?"

"Yes. Much happened on the way, and I managed to hear the things they spoke of." Aoshi eyes narrowed in old disbelief. "Battousai was taken to the island owned by this Penna Hikaru. And the one who showed up at your dojo is his cousin, Penna Tan. Some ancestor or another of theirs had actually recreated the labyrinth from the Greek legend, carving it deep into stone beneath the island's surface. I don't know its real purpose, but one of the things this group I was following does is collect people that others are willing to pay to make disappear."

"So they lock people up in this labyrinth, never to be seen again?" Misao asked.

"So it seems. It's likely there might be more to it."

"And here I thought you had been in Greece these past three months."

Aoshi fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Misao… It would take several months to make it to Greece. Then it would take _just as long _to come back. There is no way I could have gone and come back by now."

"…uh…Oh."

"Shinomori-san," Kaoru said, meeting his gaze steadily when he turned to look at her. "I understand why you came to the dojo for only Sanosuke…but it would have been terribly cruel just to leave some note for us and disappear. I just wanted you to know that."

Misao looked at Aoshi sharply. "I agree!"

"You might also agree Battousai will probably be rather upset with Sagara and me for allowing you to follow us into very obvious danger. Aoshi's eyes met with Sano's upside-down ones pointedly as he spoke.

* * *

Kenshin ran, managing to keep his stick clutched in his left hand. His arm wasn't healed, but he wanted to hold onto the stick, and his right hand was busy holding Aijo's hand as they raced through the darkness and shadows.

He was stricken with fear that made his movements jerky and unsteady. He had thought he had found a safe place, as long as he always did what Aijo-dono and Daisuke-dono said, but now he found himself chased again, the need to run and hide was no longer behind him. Why had they left Daisuke behind? Where were they going?

Back to the darkness. In the darkness, there had been Bad Things, those who tried to catch him, hurt him. Sometimes he had been so overpowered by many, crushing hands, hot breath on his face and neck. The hands hurt him, and he didn't know why. Why? What had he done to make them hurt him? He always got away, but sometimes the pain stayed, like with his left arm that had at first felt like someone had taken away the bone and replaced it with a line of solid fire, and his knee that creaked and stung as he ran.

Aijo suddenly stopped running and Kenshin nearly fell to avoid running into her. Something growled in the darkness, something large and accompanied by human reek. Gripping her charge's hand tightly, the old woman turned to run back they way they came and choose a different direction to run.

They were stopped by sudden light cast on them. Aijo pushed Kenshin toward the stone wall. Shielding her eyes in the light, she recognized Oaka, the Penna cousins' main enforcer. He held the torch he carried higher, throwing light on the monster at the other end of the tunnel.

Once a man, the monster was something twisted with madness. Eyes unfocused, glassy, feral, expression slack. It growled through broken teeth. It did not appreciate the light.

Kenshin was holding the stick at his left side. Slowly removing his hand from Aijo's, he brought around his right hand and rested his fingertips against the tip of it.

* * *

"Megumi-san! Megumi-san!"

It was too early in the morning for anyone to be so excited, shouting and knocking at the door. Half-asleep, Megumi pulled open her door and found herself nearly knocked over, gripped in a crushing hug by Kaoru.

"What on earth--"

Pulling back, Kaoru grabbed Megumi's arms. "Aoshi's found out where Kenshin is! We're going to go and get him right now!"

"Ken-san…?" Megumi stared down into her face, shining with joy and hope. She looked out the door, past Kaoru where a carriage waited. On top of it sat Sanosuke and Yahiko, the both of them coiled with excitement. The former okashira of the Oniwabanshu and the present okashira of the Oniwabanshu sat within, peering out the door Kaoru had left open in her haste to deliver the news.

"I couldn't just try to leave you like Shinomori-san tried to leave us," Kaoru said, talking really fast. "You can come if you like. But we need someone to inform the police, and to be here if Kenshin's hurt when we bring him back."

Megumi blinked, unable to believe. "Ken-san's alive? You know where he is?"

Kaoru fell to babbling, explaining how Aoshi had accidentally discovered and tailed Kenshin's kidnappers, found out the existence of an island and a maze within, of Izu-shoto.

"I don't think the police will believe it, but I'm not staying here a moment longer trying to convince them," Kaoru said.

Megumi wanted nothing more than to run to the carriage and haul herself in…but Kaoru was right, someone did need to stay and try to inform the police. She was also no fighter, like the rest of them, and would only be a burden if they ran into trouble. Besides, she had patients that couldn't be put on hold while she ran off to mythical islands…

With a last, regretful look at the carriage, she grasped Kaoru's hands and smiled sadly. "I had better stay here in case he's brought back injured."

"All right." Kaoru handed her a folded letter. "Make certain this gets to Aoi-ya. We'll be home soon. _All_ of us."

In a flash, the girl was gone, clamoring back into the carriage, Sanosuke yelling at the harassed-looking driver to get a move-on.

As the carriage jerked and began to move southward, Megumi watched Yahiko stand up on the roof. Sano's yell of "Hey, you're gonna fall!" was ignored as the boy expelled air from his lungs in a joyful shout. Cupping his hands to the side of his face, Yahiko shouted into the world: "_Kenshin! Kenshinnnnn! We're coming! We're coming to get youuuuu_!"


	7. Precious Atonement

7  
Precious Atonement

Tan turned the crystal slowly. Sunlight poured through it, the practiced refracting of the light easing the physical pain of bones long-ago broken and living in damp environs. His most intimate companion, fatigue, was drowned away in artificial strength. The illusion of health warmed him. He let the crystal drop, watched it swing back and forth on a bit of string from the ceiling.

Closing his eyes and savoring the feeling of painlessness, he turned his back on the Mindsifter and headed back into the darkness. Hikaru watched from the other end of the room, sheltered by the shade of his alcove and the roar of the waterfall, a smile in his eyes. His cousin, preparing for battle? Then it was almost time…

* * *

_I've been paying for my sins._

"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu…_Ryutsuisen_!"

A deafening crack as the stick landed against the monster's head. Kenshin's feet landed lightly on the stone floor. The sounds of shock behind him--the astonishment of Aijo-dono, the disbelieving horror of Oaka.

_At first, I was the only one who said forever_.

The monster crashed to its knees, leaving deep grooves in the living stone walls as it lashed out blindly, fighting back against the one who had hurt it.

_I walked for so long, saw so many places and people. But I was never a part of anyone or anything. I could never remember what it was like to have someone be glad to see me, be glad to be with me, just because I _am_ me…_

_**Will you shut up!**_

Dodging the monster's clumsy flailing, Kenshin planted himself firmly in front of Aijo, silently willing her to gather her senses enough to get farther back from the danger.

_I've been paying for my sins. It's as if I've always been like this, ragged and dirty and confused and broken and standing out in a downpour that didn't taste of the sky, that was always the color red. She made me come in out of that rain. Her smile sheltered me even when I tried to go back out into it, still believing I should pay for what I have done--_

Aijo and Oaka had backed away further, where the tunnels back out nearer to where they opened up into caves. Kenshin could hear them move, did not need to turn to look.

_She always pulls me back every time I try to fall. But I'm the one who said forever--_

_**Shut up! For God's sake, just shut up! Do you have any idea how much simpler everything would be if you just shut the hell up?**_

It lumbered up, the blood pouring into one eye, the other, yellow, pupil dilated with rage.

"Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu--_Ryushosen_!" All his force in an uppercut, Kenshin rose higher from his jump and landed again, watching the monster-man fly backwards. In his mind's eye, he could see times he had used that move before. Heads would fly, bloody lines drawing the path they took separating from the body…

_**If you really believe it should be "forever," you damn moron, it can't get any more "forever" than this. You won't find a more satisfying way of feeling like you're paying for your sins. Your precious atonement. You won't find a deeper grave than here, forever separated from all those people who kept saving you from your own unhappiness. That's really grateful of you; I'm sure they'll really appreciate it.**_

It gurgled dazedly, and did not rise. Kenshin held the stick before him, his eyes on the monster, his ears tuned to Oaka's movements behind him.

_You get mad so easily. You can see that it stopped being forever when she asked me to stay. I closed the door, but I was inside instead of outside. That's where I belong. I don't want it to be forever anymore. I thought I had finally found a way I could atone without having to walk in the bloody rain anymore._

The monster was unconscious, breathing shallowly on the stone floor. Kenshin finally heard Oaka, his entire presence quaking with fear, move towards him. Aijo was still standing safely behind.

_**How am I supposed to see anything through your constant whining and skewered hindsight?**_

The enforcer clumsily drew a blade, dropping the torch in his haste. Kenshin kept his back turned, eyes still on the unconscious creature on the ground.

_Why are you angry with me? For once this isn't even my fault… At least, I don't think it is--_

_**Of course you don't know, Fool! You don't know anything! You're now a pathetic idiot who giggles when tickled on the ribs by an old woman like a little boy! You wanted to know why I'm angry? I'm angry because--**_

"--no one has the right _to do this to me_!" The words tore from his throat as he whirled and attacked the terrified Oaka with the stick.

It was this man who tore his gi from him and left it pooled on the floor of the Kamiya dojo.

A chair in the center of a room blurred and bright in his memory. A constant roar deafened him. The restraints bit into his flesh as Oaka tightened them, making sure he had no choice but to sit still and stare straight ahead.

Oaka's laughter was loudest when Kenshin cried out as his mind was hacked apart by swords made of pure light.

"You had no right! You had no right to violate me this way!"

Memories were peeled away and torn asunder. Blades and harming hands reached them through the open windows of his eyes. At last he backed away into a dusty corner within himself, where he let go of everything else and grasped at a word, a name he knew carried attachments, strings that tethered to it thoughts and feelings and hopes and wishes and dreams that might not leave him completely lost in his own mind, that might show him a path through. Just like the hero who had used a ball of string to find his way through the maze…

Oaka fell back as the stick hit him in the chin. Kenshin reversed his weapon and slammed the stick into the back of his head. Oaka was on his knees, crying out. Kenshin savagely hit him across the shoulders, knocking him flat.

How long had he spent locked away in a small room, a heavy door on rusted iron hinges barring him in? He grasped at straw on the ground, staring down at trembling hands, unable to remember his own name. Then Oaka and the shadows that followed him dragged him from the cell, and the broken glass shredded through what was left of his thoughts, leaving him still cowering in a little corner within his mind, still sheltering that beloved name with all that was left of himself…

_Stop! STOP! It wasn't just him! There were others as well!_

_**He was there! He laughed while I screamed! He helped them do this to me!**_

"Kenshin! Stop it, please!"

_Aijo-dono…_

The old woman's hands were on his arm. Her flesh was so cold on him he felt like he was burning hot, like his blood had really been boiling inside him. Kenshin looked at Oaka, who was crawling away making quiet, terrified noises, looked at the stick he was holding, now bloody toward the top, and then back into Aijo's frightened eyes.

Confusion flowed over him again, the constant and unwanted companion of these many long months. Kenshin ground his teeth in frustration at it. Was he to feel ashamed of what he just did? If so, he almost had no shame left to spare.

"Himura-san, hello."

The young voice that floated into the tunnel was familiar, and Kenshin felt his blood grow hot again. Aijo cast a terrified look back the way they had come, gripping his arm more tightly.

Penna Tan, holding a torch to add to the light of the one Oaka had dropped, appeared. He was closely followed by his usual posse, who dragged Daisuke along with them. The old man was bleeding at the forehead and looked frightened and angry, but otherwise unhurt.

Tan shone the light on Aijo. "Why, hello, Kyoko-san. It has been a very, very long time."

The old woman looked up sharply. "M…my name is Aijo."

"If you like that name better, then by all means I'll call you that, Aijo-san. But you were Kyoko once upon a time. You were the pet whore to Kariudo perhaps thirty years ago. As I recall, you ruined a lot of my father's business deals with Kariudo's yakuza group by murdering him one night during one of your frequent, violent lovers' quarrels--"

"Shut up! _Shut up_! I'm not Kyoko, I'm Aijo! _Aijo_! I'm not a whore, I…I never killed anyone!"

She had pulled away from Kenshin and tried to run, but only succeeded in tripping over Oaka's sprawled leg and falling to her knees. She pressed her hands to her ears, quivering.

Kenshin gripped his stick so hard his knuckles were white. He looked at Daisuke, who was looking at his wife with an stricken expression. Tan's eyes also moved to the old man.

"Are you wondering why Nejiko-san is here also, Himura-san? He was a thief a long time ago. One of the best too. Known for always getting exactly what he went after no matter whose throat he had to slit, and known for keeping his methods secret no matter whose tongue he had to cut out. Luck was a bedfellow of his until he stole from the wrong people."

Daisuke's face was completely drained of blood. He sagged a little in his captors' arms.

"All those years of wondering why you were here. Now you know, and you'd like to go back to not knowing. I can arrange that." It was half an offer, and half a threat.

Tan turned back to address Kenshin only to find the bloody end of a stick pointed at his face. Anger gleamed in the swordsman's eyes. "You will not harm Aijo-dono or Daisuke-dono."

Tan's shoulders dropped slightly. The effects of the Mindsifter were powerful, yet his weariness was stronger. "I have no wish to harm either of these helpless oldsters, Himura-san. They've paid for their crimes so sufficiently that no one alive even wants revenge on them anymore. That's why I came to see you.

"You've found a way to beat the Mindsifter, the first ever known to do so. You are truly an incredible man, Himura-san. Still, it's something we can't have. You have to pay for what you've done too, just as Aijo-san and Daisuke-san have. I'm here to offer you a deal: if you come with us now, quietly, I'll let your friends here go. I'll personally take them from the labyrinth and release them into Japan, their minds clean slates and ready to start new lives. They'll be out of this hell here, back in the sun. They have a chance to be happy, and you can give it to them. Think about it.

"But…if you choose to resist, I'll simply bring out my Shortsifter, subdue you and your friends will remain here until they day they die. Decide."

"If it's so simple for you to bring out that 'little 'Sifter' of yours, why not just do it?" Daisuke's voice was sharp, cutting through the silence that might have followed after Tan's speech. "Why bother to offer him any kind of deal?"

Tan turned his head to look at Daisuke from the corner of his eye. "It is prefered for him to be conscious and coherent when he faces the Mindsifter again. So…what's it to be, Himura-san?"

Long minutes went by before the stick dropped, the solid sounds of heavy wood striking stone as it clattered to the ground, blotting out the sounds of protests from the old couple on either side of Kenshin, but not blanking out a ragged, defeated cry from deep within his own mind.

_**It looks like it is really going to be forever after all.**_


	8. What You Want To Remember

8  
What You Want To Remember

Aoshi sat up quickly. The world was pitching and rocking. Struggling for purchase in the darkness, he grasped his own ankles and kept his head down, breathing slowly against the feelings of dizziness and nausea.

He was really slipping.

Eventually he gained control of his faculties, but the world didn't stop dipping and bobbing. The boat ride from Tokyo to the Izu Archipelago was supposed to be short, but it wasn't mercifully short enough.

If he were anyone else, he might be able to explain away moments of weakness as motion sickness, but everyone knew him better than that. He managed to gain privacy under the guise of meditating, but eventually that wasn't going to be enough.

"_I can't believe you were so slow. I expected someone to come before now."_

Aoshi squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the haunting, weary voice.

That boy. Shaggy blond, such tired eyes, slumped shoulders.

Flashes of light…a tune, like an ordered tinkling of wind chimes…

Something in his head felt torn loose, agony spreading like white fire through his brain…

…rocks jarred loose from the cliff, trees bent branches low as if to vainly trying to reach the spray…

"…_stop! Stop!…"_

Who was shouting that? Them? Himself? Someone else, a memory as it cracked under the strain?

The cliff…the grinding spray below…he stepped backwards off the edge…

"_NO!"_

He hit and bounced on the cliff wall, and with every jolt something inside his head either snapped back into place or was jarred loose further… It seemed to take a very long time to hit the water…

"_Aoshi-sama?"_

_The young okashira peered irritably through his eyelashes at the small six-year-old girl disturbing his rest. "What is it, Misao?"_

He knew it was Misao, but he couldn't see her. She was nothing more than a warped blur.

"_Aoshi-sama…I had…I had a bad dream," the child said._

_She wasn't afraid of the bad dream, he knew it by her voice. But being a child, she had left her bed to seek a comforter anyway. He vaguely wished that she might have gone to Okina or one of the others, but it wasn't from them she wanted reassurance._

_He stood up and walked slowly to where she stood by the doorway. He wished he could see her face, her eyes. Was she uncertain at his approach? Was she afraid of him? Did she look up at him with confidence? Did she feel safe when she was near him?_

_He reached down and took her small hand in his. "All right, Misao. Let's go outside and walk for a while."_

_There was a huge moon outside. He had been looking at it through the window when he'd heard her small feet padding toward his room. Perhaps it would be soothing to her…_

"Aoshi-sama?"

His eyes snapped opened at the very real voice that scattered the assault of memories. Misao knelt close to him. There was only starlight to see by, but he saw her face clear enough. Her brilliant eyes, her high little cheekbones tapering to her small chin…

"Are you all right? Were you dreaming?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Had he made a noise? Some sound that had caused her to come to him? Had he really been so deeply bogged in his own mind that he couldn't hear her coming?

She didn't wait for him to speak. Her eyes dropped to his hands, where they still gripped his ankles from when he had first awakened. Reaching out, she closed her hand on one of his wrists, pulled his hand free, then wrapped her fingers around his own.

"Come with me, Aoshi-sama. Let's go out on the deck and walk for a while."

The same words, ringing in time with the ones he had spoken ten years before…

Outside the clouds and the sea were silvered by a huge full moon. He followed her, still being led by the hand, as if the place they were going was hidden and only she knew how to get there. He realized it was mesmerizing the way her full, thick braid swayed slowly on her back.

Aoshi's eyes froze on the shining rope of hair. It wasn't right…her hair. It wasn't right. It should have been thinner, dancing whiplike with her movements.

She turned to look at him when he slowed. He was becoming alarmed. There was a gentle smile on her face, her eyes large and compassionate. This wasn't right… She was so subdued, demure even. As she turned to face him, he saw more inconsistencies. She wasn't so whippet-thin as she should have been. Her body was fuller and thicker than he remembered, shaped with womanly curves and warrior muscle. Her face seemed to have lost the childish light and softness, darkening and hardening into stronger angles, as if she had aged five years in one night.

"You're…not Misao," he said. He tried to move away, but the grip on his hand tightened.

She closed her eyes, a light smile on her lips as if savoring a though, or feeling. "Is it not so much what you remember, but what you want to remember? Deep down inside, is Misao afraid of you? Or doesn't she feel the safest when she is with you? On that night, did she return to her bed smiling up at you? Or do you just want to believe that she did?" She opened her eyes, glittering in the moonlight. "But more important than all of that: why does it matter so much, Aoshi-sama?"

He blinked once, and found himself alone on the ship's deck. He whirled around, eyes searching, but there was no sign of that mature-looking Misao. More disquieting, _she had never_ _been there in the first place!_

Aoshi turned and stumbled to the railing, gripping the solid metal beneath his hands. _Control_, he ordered himself firmly, angrily.

But he wasn't in control. Quite the opposite. He was really beginning to lose his mind now. He pressed a hand to his face. What if he was wrong about where Battousai was? What if this island didn't actually exist? What if it was something he only thought he remembered from spying on Penna Tan and his group?

The questions made his head begin to ache.

Misao…

That night, the huge full moon in the sky. He had walked her around the inn, keeping away from the shadows, her tiny hand in his. She chattered quietly, happy to be with him…

Or had that really happened at all? _Is it not so much what you remember, but what you want to remember? _Or was it just that he wanted to believe that little Misao had come to him, seeking solace from her nightmare? _…why does it matter so much…Aoshi-sama? _It did matter, it mattered a lot. He wasn't such a stone that he didn't acknowledge the pain in his chest that came when he realized that he could not clearly remember the one who loved him the most when he wasn't with her.

Was this something like what Battousai was knowing, wherever he was? Hallucinations, confusion, disorientation, whole chunks of his life now gaping, open wounds where they had been torn out?

His mental discipline damaged, Aoshi could not suppress the shiver as he realized that he had only been in contact with Penna Tan and his device for mere seconds before stepping off the cliff with the last of his fading willpower.

Battousai had been in their hands for nearly eight months now.


	9. Battling the Mindsifter

9  
Battling the Mindsifter

Tan noticed that Kenshin made not a sound as Oaka squeezed the restraints as tightly as he possibly could.

He was completely silent as Oaka violently slammed his slightly bowed head into the back of the chair, roughly buckling the head restraint. Oaka's bruised and bloody face showed nothing but grim pleasure at getting some tiny form of revenge for his pains.

Kenshin's whole body was pale. Close to a year had be spent away from the sun. And from fear, most likely. The only small mercy was that it was only dawn, and the morning's light was gentle on his eyes, accustomed to darkness these many long months. His stared straight into the Mindsifter, his faced pinched between his eyes at the corners of his mouth.

The Mindsifter was distinguished from the rest of the cavern by being framed by carvings in the walls. Carvings depicting every possible angle of boys falling from the sky. Two boys, one with shortly-cropped dark hair, the other blond. One forever fell from empty sky into empty ocean. The other plummeted eternally from sky onto cobbled streets below.

Tan knew the carvings better than he knew his own face, could touch any line of the passionate, desperate artist's strokes he wanted even if he were blindfolded. The beautiful sculptures of a madman.

Kenshin probably didn't see them. He was only looking at the strings. Shaped glass, light-shattering prisms, crystals wrought or uncut. Anything that was glassy clear and colorless hung from strings. Some hung in rows, others hung alone, some strings were tied together, all forming a vast, patterned, warped spider's web of light-altering chaos.

Hikaru was on a raised dais beyond it all, the waterfall behind him. He had moved his wheeled chair from the usual overhang in the shadows and onto the dais while Tan was gone. Mist from the waterfall floated over him and rainbows passed through him. He was still as obscured from view as he was in the darkness of his alcove, only right now he was choosing to be more creative about it. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted to be able to clearly see.

Tan tried to straighten his shoulders as he turned back to Kenshin, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach.

He tried once more for the easier path. "Please, Hikaru. Let's just kill him. Right here, right now."

"And break your promise to his dear, dear friends in Tokyo? Here I thought you liked being known as someone who keeps his word."

Tan fell silent under his cousin's mocking tone. His shoulders fell again.

"It's good to see you again, Himura-san," Hikaru said, his voice raised over the sounds of the waterfall.

Oaka and the other three moved quietly away from Kenshin, slipping into an out-of-the way place near Hikaru's usual alcove. Kenshin's eyes moved slowly from the Mindsifter to Hikaru outside it.

"I am most interested to know how you managed to overcome some of the effects of this ingenious little invention." Hikaru raised one hand, twisted at a strange angle, and with a fingernail he tapped a low-hanging shard of crystal.

And Kenshin blinked.

_What the hell?_ Tan's eyes widened. His eyes flickered back to Hikaru, waiting expectantly. When Kenshin remained silent, Hikaru's silhouette cocked its head. Tan could not see him frown, but knew that he was.

"I said," Hikaru repeated more loudly, "I want to know how you regained your sanity, your powers of speech, or at least how the hell you remembered your own name!"

Again he raised his hand to tap the crystal. The Pattern of strings flickered and warped…

…_and Kenshin blinked again_…

Tan's jaw dropped, a number of shock-induced blasphemies running through his skull. It was _perfect_! He had timed his blink just as the Pattern rippled, missing its influence entirely.

"I don't believe it…" he heard his cousin murmur softly.

Hikaru tapped the crystal for a third time, and again, Kenshin blinked in perfect time with the Pattern's ripple.

Hikaru's high-pitched laughter floated across the room. "Cousin, did you see that!"

"Yes, Hikaru."

"How about that? A brilliant man you are, Himura-san! I admit it from the bottom of my heart. But I'm afraid it won't save you this time. This time, I'm taking everything. _Everything_. They'll be nothing left for you to work with this time. Oaka!"

Tan felt his lips turning numb. "H…Hikaru…"

"Enough, Tan. I'm tired of your protests. We're not going to kill him," Hikaru said flatly as Oaka headed up the dais towards him.

The two of them talked in low voices for only a few seconds before Oaka, his mangled face stretched with a huge grin, bounded down quickly and ran to Hikaru's alcove. The sounds of rummaging came from his way before he reemerged, holding a mallet in one hand a small, thin spike in the other.

"What the hell is that for?" Tan demanded, taking a step forward.

"Now, now, Tan," Hikaru said sharply. "I feel that it's important for Himura to be…_distracted_…this time."

While Tan had been listening to his cousin, Oaka had moved around to Kenshin's right arm, hovering over his right hand. Kenshin was obviously more on to what was about to happen than Tan. Sweat poured down his face and chest, eyes large and wild as he attempted to curl his hand into a fist, for what little protection that would offer.

In only seconds, the other enforcers bounded forward to help, pulling Kenshin's fingers apart and forcing the hand to lie flat on the curve of the armrest.

"Maybe putting that sword-hand out of commission for good will produce a more permanent solution," Hikaru mused in good-natured tones.

Oaka placed the tip of the spike against the back of Kenshin's palm. Kenshin's eyes grew wider and wilder, the pupils dilating to pinpricks.

"Oh, God," Tan said through very clenched teeth.

Oaka raised the mallet.

Tan jumped forward and stayed his hand.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Hikaru's voiced hissed from across the cavern.

"You're making a mistake, Cousin."

"And just how is that, may I ask?" Penna Hikaru's voice was low, low and dangerous, carried just audibly enough over the constant crashing of the waterfall.

Tan forced himself to stare steadily in his cousin's direction, looking neither at the enforcers or at Kenshin.

"He's left-handed," he lied tightly, desperate.

"Left-handed?"

"Yes. He fights with his left hand," Tan repeated firmly.

Tan released Oaka's hand and held his breath.

Oaka scratched his head. "Yeah, I remember he was running with that stick he hit me with in his left hand. Yeah, Hikaru-sama, I think he's left-handed too."

"Oh." Hikaru's silhouette shrugged. "Oh, how careless. Thank you for pointing that out, Cousin. Perhaps we should do both hands, just in case?"

Tan closed his eyes.

"Only got one spike, Hikaru-sama," Oaka said.

"Oh, well," Hikaru said, the shadow of his twisted arm waving irritably at Kenshin. "The left hand, then."

Biting hard on his tongue, Tan turned to Kenshin as the others filed to take hold of his hand on the other side of the chair. Their eyes met for a moment before Kenshin's clouded over in bleak expectation.

_I'm sorry, _Tan entreated silently_. It was all I could do._

* * *

On a mountain in Kyoto, a large man with long black hair read a twice-resealed letter that had originated from Tokyo; someone had, as merely an afterthought, remembered him, and had sent it.

The man sat for more than an hour, his eyes moving again and again over the words, until his hands gradually parted and tore the pages into halves.

Dropping the papers as though they had been set afire, he reached out with one hand toward a marked jug. The hand was completely steady until it almost reached the jug, and then, just for the fraction of a second there was a twitch as his fingers closed over the neck. The only sound then for a while was the trickle of sake.

* * *

In Tokyo, a young doctor dropped a vial of medicine to break and stain the clinic floor. Furiously mopping at the mess she wondered shakily, what was the strange stab of fear that had come over her?

* * *

On a boat speeding toward an island, a ten-year-old who was once a yakuza thief worked out his worry and seasickness by practicing kata. His swinging faltered as his heart, for no reason he could understand, suddenly skipped a beat and sped up.

Several feet away, a young kendo instructor leaned against the boat railing, facing the sea, her eyes much farther away than the boat could ever take her. She inhaled sharply, one hand rising to rest over her heart as a terrible feeling expanded in her chest.

Leaning against the deck wall, a man who was once a merchant of fights watched over the girl and the boy with a single-minded steadfastness of a bird who was afraid his nest might fall right out of the tree and shatter on the unforgiving earth below. Then, unexplainably, he felt goose bumps rising on his arms. Looking down at his puckered flesh, his jaw tightened.

Sitting within the cabin, in shadow, a man who felt cracks spreading in his once-strong mind meditated, his presence no less forbidding for all the crushed-down fear within. His eyes snapped open as a ghostly feeling of distress came over him…this time not over his own growing problem…but of something else…

Far on the other side of the ship, the okashira sought that which was usually unlooked for, solitude. She remained as hard as stone against her fears, her promise, and her own thoughts. She hugged herself against a sudden, violent chill.

* * *

_Oh, God, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!_

_**Hold still, Kenshin. Be still.**_

"_GyaahhhhgggaaAAAAHHHHHHH--!"_

_**Please stop! Please! Stop thrashing, you're making it worse!**_

_I have to get AWAY FROM IT!_

…**_Kenshin! Listen…Sanosuke…Sano kicked you into the well once._**

_W…what…?_

_**He did. And then he stepped on your head. Kaoru…Kaoru likes to wear blue. And yellow. I like the way she looks in yellow. She looks all sunny and happy, don't you think?**_

_Ah…ah…I…y-yes…_

_**Yahiko's a really brave kid, isn't he? Remember when he took on all those goons who were forcing Tsubame to help them rob Akabeko? We only had to help just a little.**_

…_ah…y-yeah. H-heh. Cicadas in the s-spring…_

_**He wants a sakabato. Just like yours.**_

…

_**Don't cry, Kenshin. They're watching.**_

* * *

Blood pooled into the cracks of the armrest, poured down and puddled on the stone floor.

His cries had echoed on the cavern walls and then broke off abruptly. Strapped upright in the chair, Kenshin trembled in agony, the muscles of his left arm spasming, the muscles in the fingers of the pierced hand splayed and locked.

"That's what I call a distraction," Oaka said, rattling out a ringing noise in his left ear with one of his thick fingers.

"All right, then. Anyone who doesn't want their brains baked should leave now," Hikaru chirped.

Penna Tan watched his cousin's goons leave. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a pair of smoked glasses, set them over his eyes. This was it… Perhaps Kenshin would even die of infection in only a couple of weeks. It was the best he could hope for.

Tan watched as Hikaru slowly rolled to the right side of the dais. "Don't bother to come up, Cousin. I'll do it myself this time."

Tan didn't object to that. He tried one last time. "Let me kill him. We can even do it slowly. Cut across his windpipe and watch him asphyxiate. Poison him. Bleed him to death. Anything you like, as long as he dies today."

Hikaru didn't bother to answer that time. His silhouette climbed out of the chair, small and warped behind the crossing rainbows. Dragging one foot behind, using the wall for support. From a hook, he removed a long bamboo pole. "To your place, Cousin. It's time."

Tan limped forward to stand directly in front of Kenshin, but it was Hikaru he watched until, in a twirling move, the only time his broken body was graceful, he lashed out with his pole and began the first Pattern.

Tan turned his back to the Mindsifter, watching Kenshin instead through the smoked glasses.

The first Pattern. The crystals and glass and shards began tinkling together, forming a broken little tune that Hikaru soon began to order into something that was both wilder and sweeter. Strange, so beautiful a sound coming from something meant to destroy the souls of men.

Kenshin's hair was soaked with sweat, bangs plastered to his head. His eyes were wide and clouded with pain, watching Hikaru's dance, watching the dance that Tan had danced himself many times, but had never seen.

Tan closed his eyes.

"_In heaven a spirit doth dwell…"_

His eyes snapped open again.

_"Whose heart-strings are a lute  
None sing so wildly well  
As the angel Israfel…"_

For the second time that day, Penna Tan's jaw dropped.

He was…he was singing. How was he doing that? Why was he doing that? He shouldn't have even been _able_ to do that!

"_And the giddy stars  
(so legends tell),  
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell  
Of his voice, all mute."_

Tan had to fight the urge to turn around and see if Hikaru noticed, lest he also be caught up in the Mindsifter. He only stared at Kenshin. A drop of sweat rolled down his cheek.

"_Tottering above  
In her highest noon,  
The enamored moon  
Blushes with love,  
While, to listen, the red levin  
With the rapid Pleiads, even,  
(Which were seven)  
Pauses in Heaven."_

"My God," Tan breathed. "He's singing it to the tune. He's singing to the tune of the Mindsifter."

"_And they say (the starry choir  
And the other listening things)  
That Israfel's fire  
Is owing to that lyre  
By which he sits and sings-  
The trembling living wire  
Of those unusual strings."_

But as he watched Kenshin, he realized it was more incredible than that. His violet eyes were fixed on a scene that Tan dared not look at, and the eyes were full of determination and fury, bleeding through the pain. He was _dueling_ the Mindsifter!

"_But the skies that angel trod,  
Where deep thoughts are a duty-  
Where Love's a grown-up God-  
Where the Houri glances are  
Imbued with all the beauty  
Which we worship in a star."_

Kenshin's voice rose as the sound Patterns of the Mindsifter became wilder and faster, and he battled each note with one of his own, beat for beat, as if he were crossing swords with a living opponent.

"_Therefore thou art not wrong,  
Israfel, who despisest  
An unimpassioned song;  
To thee the laurels belong,  
Best bard, because the wisest!  
Merrily live, and long!"_

He was doing it! He was beating the Mindsifter!

"_The ecstasies above  
With thy burning measures suit-  
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,  
With the fervor of thy lute-  
Well may the stars be mute!"_

The Patterns cried out louder, and so did Himura Kenshin. Soaking wet with perspiration, he squeezed his eyes closed as met the notes. Parried. Blocked. Note for note, exactly on time, on key!

"_Yes, Heaven is thine; but this  
Is a world of sweets and sours;  
Our flowers are merely- flowers,  
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss  
Is the sunshine of ours."_

At last the haunting, crystalline music slowed, but Kenshin never faltered. Lowering his voice so that it was hidden just under the high sounds of the chimes, he sang to the very last.

"_If I could dwell  
Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I,  
He might not sing so wildly well  
A mortal melody,  
While a bolder note than this might swell..."_

The Mindsifter was stilled, the chiming tune ended. Yet Kenshin still sang the line in a whisper, cracking open his pain-glazed eyes.

"_From my lyre within the sky."_


	10. Sifting

10  
Sifting

There were two, as if one of them existed for each of his eyes.

One of them reflected clearly in his left eye, above the scar. She was beautiful. Sad. It was all but impossible to make her smile. She moved slowly, carefully. She didn't speak much, and when she did, her voice was soft. She was difficult to understand at times. He didn't always know when he hurt her, or made her happy. All emotion she showed was always shrouded.

_They shared another language, and his body still recalled it. The language was a gentle one; it seemed to be what they both needed in a lifetime of pain and violence. He moved his hands along her curves, knowing well the way of them, yet exploring as completely as if it were the first time. He leaned down to kiss her, unfortunately at the same moment she raised her face to be kissed._

_His forehead hit her nose with an alarming crunch. Her dark eyes watered as she rolled away from him, clutching her face._

"_Ahh!"_

"_God, have I hurt you, Tomoe?"_

_She turned back to him, blinking away tears. "My nose is broken, I think."_

"_No it isn't," he said, gently feeling the bridge of her nose. "When a nose breaks, it makes a nasty crunching sound and you bleed like a pig. It's all right."_

_She felt gingerly under her nose, and seeing that he was right she shook her head at him in an amused sort of way. He smiled as she reached up with one hand, pressing it to the back of his head, and guided his face down to meet hers. This time, they met at the right place._

The other reflected in his right eye. She was beautiful, but even if she were not, she would still be beautiful. It was the simplest thing in the world to make her smile. She dashed about, not worrying if she made mistakes, correcting them when she did. She talked freely, her laughter generous. If he made her mad, he'd know it immediately. If he made her happy, she showed it. She was honest that way. She made him want to see things as she saw them.

_She found him sitting on the porch one late summer night. He smiled in greeting as she seated herself beside him._

"_It's too hot to sleep," she complained. And it really was one of the worst summer nights he could remember experiencing, too humid and uncomfortable to sleep. Like him, she had come out seeking to appeal to the mercy of the wind to send a soothing breeze._

"_My father used to tell me stories," she said, "on nights like this. Tales to make me forget how uncomfortable I was. There was one story that…that reminds me of you. It was about a young man who was bragging about the unmarred beauty of his heart until an older man came and showed him how much more beautiful his own heart was. The older man's heart was beating strongly, but it was misshapen pieces that didn't fit, and opened gouges, pieces missing entirely._

"_The younger man asked how the older man could possibly say that his heart was more beautiful, when his own was perfect and the other was a mess of scars and tears. The older man said it was because he had often given pieces of his heart away. Sometimes he received pieces of others' heart in return to replace the hole that was left. Often they didn't fit, with their jagged edges, but he loved the pieces even more for not being exact. Sometimes he gave away of his heart, but the person to whom he gave it did not give a piece of their own in return. That's why there were missing peices in his heart. The holes were painful, but stayed open, reminding him of the love he gave, and of the hope that someday those people would give of their hearts to fill the empty spaces he had waiting. That was what true beauty was._

"_You have a heart like the older man's, Kenshin."_

_She stopped speaking, and no matter how he tried, he could not speak back. She smiled at him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing it. Here was another kind of language they shared, for she was certainly one who knew how it felt when one couldn't force words beyond a lump in one's throat._

They stood there, in his eyes, surrounded by light, so bright. It burned, but he held onto them both. His arms were so very heavy as he lifted them. Bare arms. Smudged and bruised. The right was steady and whole. The left was crippled and trembling, blood running down, dripping from his fingers.

He held out his hands to the two women, not certain what it was he wanted from them. Even less certain he had a right to ask it of them.

The woman in his left eye looked at the bloody hand he held out to her. Her eyelids lowered. Slowly she shook her head. Shame washed over him, more crippling than his pain. With her, he was still making it rain blood…

She was blotted out of his vision as the other woman moved to him. She stood in both his eyes now, her smile was as gentle as her eyes were brave. Reaching out with strong, sure hands she gripped his right hand in hers, and with her left hand she grasped his wrist, below the oozing wound. She did it not to avoid the blood--which was impossible as freely as it ran down his arm--but so she wouldn't cause him any more pain.

He hadn't realized he was on his knees until she pulled him off them, forcing him to stand with her. She held him to her, and she was all that was in his eyes now. The other woman seemed to slip away with a small smile, and he realized that he had misunderstood the reason why she had refused to touch him. It was because she had decided that it was for another to do now.

Aching inside, he leaned wholly into the woman who held him. He was ashamed again, this time of his weakness, his mistakes that had ended him up this way, the grime and the blood that he knew he was getting all over her. The shame mixed with the pain, the fear, and the loneliness. She seemed so strong, so much stronger than he had ever, ever been. His damaged mind could no longer put up emotional defenses. He held onto her, cried silently, let her comfort him.

After a time, she shifted her head slightly so that her mouth was next to his ear. "Hold on," she whispered. Her voice was slow, soft. "Hold on. I'm coming. I am coming."

"No," he pleaded, even as he gripped her closer. "Please. Kaoru-dono, stay away. This one is in Hell, where angels should not be."

She made a noise in his ear. She might have meant for it to be a chuckle, but it raised too far in pitch for him not to know it was a sob. "Then you should not be here, should you?"

White-hot pain jolted through his hand, up his arm. He flinched, but her arms tightened around him, protecting him. The sound of metal striking stone could be heard from somewhere far away. A voice somewhere far back in his mind supplied that the metal spike that had been nailed into his hand had been removed and tossed aside.

A mighty wind suddenly moved over them, and the light dimmed away, but he was still protected in an embrace.

The wind slammed into them, followed by scales of distant chimes. Kenshin slipped to his knees, and she with him. She didn't let go. Her lips were against his ear, her voice drowning out the fury. "Remember. Hold on. Survive. Remember. Hold on. Survive. Remember…" Again and again and again…

The next time the wind attacked, it brought fire with it, and the surreal gale attacked them with more viciously than ever. There was pain, but it wasn't as important as it was to Remember, Hold on…

…Survive.

* * *

"I think you can stop now, Hikaru."

"Ah ha ha! I knew…his voice would give out eventually. And you said…persistence was…futile."

" . . . "

"Nevermind. It's done. I'll have Oaka put him back…in the maze and…observe the effects once I've rested."

"…I'll take him."

"As you wish. And Tan?"

"What, Hikaru?"

"_Don't_ kill him."

* * *

Author's note: 

_The story Kaoru told Kenshin was a little inspirational thing my aunt read to me once, called "The Most Beautiful Heart." It's author is unknown._


	11. Broken Wings

Author's Note:

_Did anyone miss us? _(Peeks through fingers, wary of flying bokkens_) I'm very sorry for the delay. I'm not finished with the other project I was working on, but the baka for whom I was writing it, while she's enjoying "her" story, released me from obligatory promptness, instead making it simply a gift of effort. Since it's there, she knows I'll finish it. I think she was finally noticing how stressed I was getting. Keh._

_Lots of people have been asking for an update of this fic, and I'm happy to oblige. I'm having fun no matter what I write, but I've missed my Kenshin._

_And one more thing before I leave you to the new chapter. _(Grin!)_ I could apologize for the way I seemed to leave you hanging, but the truth was you'd have been hanging no matter where I left you. When I first started _The Mindsifter_, I just began telling a story the way my grandmother and my aunts used to tell _me _stories, bit by bit each night before I went to sleep, always leaving off on a mysterious or exciting note that left my little brother and my cousins and me so eager for more that we always went to bed without a fuss. Quite clever of them, really._

_So I didn't think anything of as I planned my chapters, but now I can see that maybe it's not such a good idea when all of you have to wait much longer than just another night to get the next installment. I've resolved to do that less from now on. In other stories. 'Fraid this one's going on just as I've plotted it out for now._

_Okay, I've held you up long enough. I'm sorry again._

* * *

11  
Broken Wings

Voices…running water…

He was so cold, then there was pain, someone was bothering his left hand. Then there was a new warmth. Kenshin opened his eyes and saw Aijo once. He was looking up blearily at the old woman. He could feel her arms around him, cradling him close. She looked angry, seemed to be arguing with someone.

He closed his eyes again. She couldn't possibly be real. He'd sent her away, hadn't he?

There were more voices, but they were hushed and indistinct. He couldn't find the concentration to work out what they were saying.

He felt himself being moved, opened his eyes again and saw Daisuke this time, the old man lifting him up into his arms like a child. He, too, had his eyes on something else, with the same angry, defiant expression.

Mental processes began to work sluggishly. Should he try to stand? Did they need help? He shifted himself slightly, not entirely sure where he was and what it might take to get his feet under him, but the movement jarred his hand and he heard his own soft cry of pain. Daisuke frowned down at him and tightened his hold. Kenshin felt one arm under his shoulders, and the other under the crook of his legs. The message was clear enough: stay still.

He felt Aijo's wrinkly hand on his forehead, and then stroking his hair. Kenshin closed his eyes again. They were angry but they were calm. That meant they were in no danger and he need not do anything just yet. He was very tired…

* * *

"I don't care what you promised him, we're not going anywhere!" Aijo hissed, standing in front of her husband and Kenshin as if blocking them from view would help anything.

Tan leaned against the stone wall, not bothering to hide his weariness. He wished he'd allowed one of the enforcers to come along after all, to carry Kenshin all this way if nothing else, spare him effort. Then, as if he didn't have enough problems, the old couple who had been helping Kenshin had suddenly jumped him, pulling the half-conscious swordsman from him and now clearly intended to carry him away.

"No one ever listens," Tan said, too tired to even be annoyed. They acted like Kenshin was family to them the way they desperately tried to shelter him. They refused to leave the labyrinth if he didn't come with them. Any other soul trapped within the maze would kill for the chance they had been given, but the old couple clearly had a different idea of what was important to them.

"Please," the old woman entreated. "He probably needs help more than ever now after…after what you've done to him. We can't just leave him like this."

Tan's eyes traveled to what he could see of Kenshin around Aijo. Daisuke cradled the red-headed man in his arm as possessively as he might his own son. His jaw was set, his eyes hard. He was willing to fight to keep him. So was the old woman. Tan had not expected this sort of reaction or level of devotion.

"I promised him I'd set you free…" he tried again, but knowing their ears were going to be as deaf as Hikaru's.

"It's not worth the price," Daisuke muttered, speaking for the first time. "If it's freedom he wanted for us, then we freely choose to stay and care for him."

Tan slid lower on the wall. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd broken a promise to the rurouni. It had seemed like a simple promise when he'd said he'd make sure no harm ever came to his friends, and yet he allowed one that followed him on a errand to die when all he'd meant to do was erase the man's memory of them ever meeting. Kenshin seemed to make some very determined friends…kind of like these oldsters opposing him now.

"He beat it, you know…" he said.

"What?"

"The Mindsifter. Himura-san beat it. He fought it and won. He didn't come out unscathed, but he's retained himself. I know because when I was bandaging his hand he said the name of the person who made this medicine…" Tan flipped a small compact at Aijo, who caught it, staring mutely at the lid where a cheerful design was painted.

The old couple both stared at Kenshin. "Impossible..."

Tan was beginning to believe that not much was impossible for this man, but there was really nothing more he could say. His words were never heeded by anyone.

He tapped a shard of the Shortsifter in his pocket, wondering if he should enforce his promise and still preserve some honor that might spare him from the darkest pits of hell. But…by leaving Kenshin in the care of the old man and the old woman, the former hitokiri might just survive. He beat the Mindsifter, maybe he could beat the labyrinth as well?

He took away deliverance once in his ignorance, and after all they had done to him as punishment, Tan didn't feel he really had the right to hope that Kenshin could bring that salvation back… Yet there was still the faintest glimmer of hope. For Hikaru. It was too late for Tan, but Hikaru might not be too far gone…

"I'm going to die today, I think," he said suddenly, surprising himself as much as he surprised the old couple, who were had just begun to slowly edge away when they saw he was lost in thought. "Or maybe the next, if things go badly. Go ahead and stay here, keep him if you can. Try to keep him hidden and quiet. But know I'm not going to be able to help after this day."

"What have you ever done to _help_?" Daisuke spat angrily.

Tan smiled. "I've done more than I should have, considering if it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't have to die."

He turned and limped back the way he came. Promises be _damned_.

* * *

"Tan? Don't. Please, don't. Just put them down. Will it away."

"I can't. You know that, Hikaru. Were you ever able to just 'will it away'?"

"...No. Tan--"

"If only we were more clever. Like Grandpa, huh? Then we could make it work. Then we wouldn't be broken. Instead we'd be flying. That would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Tan…I…I haven't been very kind to you these last few years. I--"

"Don't worry about it, Hikaru."

"Tan. Cousin, come back! Come back, I-I'll have Oaka chain you down, we'll keep you safe until the feeling passes, please--"

"Heh. Hikaru, you haven't looked at me like that since we were children. But you know it won't. The feeling won't pass, and I'll simply go mad. I would rather die now, as myself. Remembering who I am. Something we've denied so many…"

"Cousin…don't…"

"I've survived before. Maybe I will this time."

"You won't. You're too broken now."

"I've always been broken, Hikaru. Always."

"Why? I thought making Hitokiri Battousai suffer would make it easier for us to bear this, but you just became more and more unhappy."

"I tried to tell you! It's not Himura Kenshin's fault that we're like this!"

"But if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be!"

"He didn't know that! He didn't know! How many _times _have I told you? My god, Hikaru, I'm so desperately sick of what we are, of what I've had to do every day of my remembered life! At least Himura-san changed what he was! At least he fought against he monster he'd become!"

"He had choices. We don't. We never have."

"Maybe it's the fact that I'm going straight to hell today…but that all sounds like a bunch of excuses now. _Sayonara_, my cousin."

"Tan…?"

"What, Hikaru?"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry I…that I didn't listen to you more."

"Don't worry about it, Hikaru. After all, one of the few choices that I ever had was to obey you."

* * *

Myojin Yahiko decided he hated the Izu archipelago. He hated how different it looked from the rest of Japan, with it's scraggly plants, jagged cliffs, crashing foamy water. Even the warmer temperature and the people, friendlier and more easygoing than in the larger cities, failed to lighten his heart.

The whole damn place looked exactly alike. Little collections of islands, rumor of a volcano this way or that way. Who could pay attention to things like that? He'd been so excited when they had somewhere to go, something to do. Now it was back to waiting, searching, wondering, hoping. Asking questions. Riding on luck.

Yes, Yahiko _hated _it.

He walked along the beach near the town where they were staying, alone for once. Trying not to think. He was afraid of the places his thoughts could take him. Anywhere from what might be happening to Kenshin at this very moment to great, deep, sealed-up fears that he might wish his shinai into living steel, that he might imagine slashing a bleeding revenge against those who had dared to harm his family.

He couldn't think like that. Couldn't bear the violent thoughts. Even if it was only because he feared most of all what Kenshin would think of what Yahiko might become if he allowed such thoughts to consume him.

Yahiko felt the bitter smile on his lips. Even now, Kenshin guided him. Wouldn't let him fall. But Yahiko couldn't be there for Kenshin. No help, no comfort. Useless to help Kenshin when _Kenshin _really needed it. If it had been anyone else, any of them instead, Kenshin would have found them by now. Yahiko was sure of it.

He kicked at the sand in frustration, and was surprised when his sandal connected with a glass bottle, partially hidden in the scrubby grass. He might have dismissed it as the inevitable litter, but he noticed there was paper inside.

Curious, the boy went after the bottle and uncorked it. Another surprise awaited him. On the paper in the bottle, he recognized the handwriting of his ugly teacher.

_Kenshin,_

_This is a beautiful place. I hope you saw it. I hope you're seeing it right now._

_I think you'd like the people here. It would do your heart good to see how simple things are here. Calm, not bustling like back home. It's warm and windy._

_Did you ever wander here? Somehow I don't think so, but how can I be sure except to ask you when I find you? If you haven't, I'll show you some things I've seen here. The sunsets seem to have so much more purple in them than back at home. The same shade as your eyes. It helps me to believe that you really are here, somewhere._

_I can feel you. We'll find you, Kenshin._

_--Kaoru_

Yahiko snorted as he refolded the paper, but there was no heart in it. Girls did such such silly, sentimental things. It was obvious she knew Kenshin would never read this letter. In fact, she never wanted anyone to, otherwise why would she have put it in a bottle and thrown it into the ocean?

He stared at the bottle, rolling the wooden cork between his fingers as he studied it. The surf had caught it, and washed it back to shore. Thrown back in, the same would probably happen.

Leaning down, Yahiko picked up several stones from the beach, worn smooth by the constant wearing of the waves. He brushed the dirt off carefully before dropping them, one by one, into the bottle, careful not to smudge or tear Kaoru's letter.

Satisfied it was well-weighted, Yahiko climbed up one of the craggy hillsides rising above the ocean. Hauling the bottle back, he threw it with all his strength, watching it sail out into the air toward the ocean until it became only a pinprick before arching down. He was a little surprised and impressed at his own throw. He sat down for a while, dangling his legs down, seeing the ocean with different eyes.

A labyrinth carved into living stone… Kenshin would be glad to see the these islands, and sky and the ocean after so much time, wouldn't he?

Yahiko buried his face in his hands, blocking out the sights, surprised and angry that he'd found himself so suddenly close to tears. _Damn them_! This wasn't fair! Kenshin had already gone through so much. As far as Yahiko was concerned, Kenshin had paid his dues, and then some! He _deserved _to be happy, incredibly, completely, peacefully happy, for the rest of his life!

But even after all this time, it was too soon for tears, too soon for despair. Kenshin needed to be found, and it was already vowed one way or another he was going back to the dojo. _Then _Yahiko could sort out what he was feeling. But not before. This was the way it had to be.

Composed to a steely point, the Tokyo samurai stood and made his way across the cliffs that rose above the ocean.

Coming up on Aoshi was surprising. Yahiko saw the top of his head first, recognizing his familiar long coat and tall stance before overcoming the rise in the land and seeing him completely.

Aoshi appeared to be standing in front of some sort of fallen bird. A very large bird from the huge brown wings Yahiko could see spread on the ground on either side of Aoshi.

He jogged to catch up, curious to see what sort of creature had so captivated his attention. Yahiko gasped, barely noticed Aoshi half-turn to look at him. What Aoshi was standing over was no bird.

Yahiko had remembered well the shaggy hair and sagging eyes of the boy who had invaded his home and taken away one of the most important people in his life. Seeing him on the ground leaking life-blood might have brought on some sort of satisfaction, but…

Yahiko's eyes grazed over the wings. Huge, beautiful wings of brown and dun-yellow feathers, sewn together over slender inner wood-and-metal supports, strapped to the older boy's arms and shoulders.

He was still alive, Yahiko realized when he turned his head to look at him. He smiled a bloody-toothed smile. "I remember you. You were at the dojo where Himura-san lived."

"Where Kenshin _lives_," Yahiko corrected, his horrified eyes taking in the twisted body before traveling skyward to confirm there was indeed a high, steep rise in the earth from where he had obviously jumped. "What the hell were you doing? Trying to _fly_?"

"Yes."

"Fool!" Yahiko bit out. "Where is Kenshin? Where have you taken him? Don't you dare die before you tell me!"

The boy with wings shifted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Heh. I _am _a fool, Little Swordsman. But it wasn't my choice to be one. It's my curse. Every drop of blood that was mine is cursed. Let none get on you, or you'll be cursed as well."

Shaking, Yahiko looked to Aoshi, expecting the adult to do something. This was their only link to Kenshin, lost forever if he died here. "Aoshi, how long have you been here? Did he tell you anything? Where Kenshin is? Where? Where's is Penna's Island?"

"I told him," the boy volunteered. "When he asked. I thought he was a hallucination at first. I thought I'd killed him."

"What?"

"It's just talk from one far gone, Boy," Aoshi said. Quietly but quickly. A little too quickly.

But Yahiko had no patience to think on it. Something much more important was at stake. "So you know where Kenshin is?" he pressed desperately.

"I know where the _labyrinth _is," Aoshi said. "Where Battousai is being held."

Put that way seemed a little daunting, but it was something. They could move forward again.

Aoshi surprised Yahiko by kneeling beside the broken boy, actually careful to avoid the pooling blood. "What is your name?" he asked quietly.

The boy chuckled humorously. "You don't remember? It's Tan. Penna Tan."

Aoshi nodded. Then, "Why?"

Tan stared at the sky for a long moment. "I never wanted to. Not even when I first lost my abilities to run and jump. I never wanted to punish Himura-san, just like I never wanted to keep trying to fly. But my cousin and his cohorts did. It was all they could talk about, after a time… It wasn't enough to kill him. They wanted to take away his pride and his humanity until there was nothing but a broken-minded creature mewling and clawing at the walls. They wanted him to die slowly, knowing what it was like to be cold and scared and choking on slimy bits of garbage or whatever one could find that could be eaten. Dying slowly of despair."

Yahiko quivered with rage, only holding his tongue because of an icy glare from Aoshi.

"Is there a way we can heal what you've done to him?"

Tan's eyes traveled from the sky to Aoshi's face. _And to you? _"No. Whatever he can't overcome…is permanent. Just like this is." His fingers brushed over the soft feathers of his homemade wings. "I'm glad you're not dead. I'm glad you, his friends, made it this far. I left everyone that clue, but I never believed anyone would take it seriously enough."

"It was deliberately misleading," Aoshi grunted.

There was a jerking movement of Tan's shoulders that might have been a shrug. "Maybe not so much. You still found your way here. I'm glad. I…I admire Himura-san. Even without all of his faculties, he shocks and amazes me. Where he gets his will to overcome such horrors that he faces, I wish I knew…"

Again his fingers brushed over the feathers. "I wish I knew…because if I did, then maybe, this time, I would have really been able to fly."


	12. The Wrong Question

12  
The Wrong Question

A sake jug in Hiko Seijuro's cabin was gathering a layer of dust. And he was in the foulest mood he could ever remember because of it.

He blamed Kenshin.

This was worse than when Kenshin flung himself into the Bakumatsu. Back then, he had been troubled because of what Kenshin did and would do, but never once did he worry about his student's welfare. In fact, Hiko made it a clear point not to worry at all. Kenshin made his decisions, and there was little more to be said about it.

Still, his sake went untouched. It would have dulled the unproductive unease a little, under ordinary circumstances. This, though, was no ordinary circumstance. For some reason drinking anything made it worse.

Hiko put away several fired pots to be glazed later when he had the patience and walked past his cabin, avoiding it entirely. He silently cursed his apprentice again, though without any real heart or fury in it.

His home had become full of ghosts. Or rather, only one ghost changing forms according to whatever year of life the master was recalling his student. They were just his own memories, except for a few vivid dreams that came to him when he dozed or slept after drinking his sake. The last dream before he'd decided to put the jug away for a while had been the worst…

Sleeping as deeply as his sleeping cycle ever got, in the dream Hiko's eyes had snapped open when a soft, high voice called quietly to him in the darkness.

It was a shock, seeing a very young Kenshin kneeling in front of him, the boy's clear, sorrowful eyes large and glistening in the gloom.

"Master," the little apparition whispered, tiny fists planted on the floor in front of his knees. "Master, do…do you hate me?"

Hiko remembering it as being one of the few times he was surprised enough to gape like a fool.

"Master, I'm…sorry," the child said, his young voice unsteady and wet with pleading. "Please, don't hate me."

And Hiko had jerked awake, and was on his feet before he realized it, so disoriented by the thick dream-fog clouding his mind that he actually took several steps to find the boy before his senses came flooding back. Kenshin was not only _not _there, but he also hadn't been that little boy for a long time.

That had been his last and only really lucid dream, but it had opened a veritable sluiceway of memories. And that was bothering the hell out of him.

If he went inside the cabin, he would see a half-remembered image of Kenshin in a corner, feverishly working on his writing, face a bit drawn because he knew he'd get another unflattering remark from his master for not being able to improve his handwriting. If he walked outside, he'd see in his mind a slightly older Kenshin, practicing under the trees, holding the sword as if it had become a part of him…watching Hiko out of the corner of his eye, hope there for a nod, a word of approval, even a smirk…

Then the memories would fade and the master would go about his business, trying to ignore his body's protests of the absence of its favorite drink, and a growing feeling in his insides. They went hand-in-hand. If Hiko drank, he felt the emotion more strongly than if he left the sake alone. And he didn't want to feel it. It was not only distracting, it was infuriating, unseemly.

He definitely had a bone or several to pick with those friends of his student when they got back, he decided as he leaned a bit tiredly against a tree. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, his thoughts turning to that girl and the spiky-headed kid that lived with his apprentice in Tokyo.

He couldn't help but wonder…how had he been almost so completely forgotten? Of course he wasn't a part of Kenshin's life, really. Out of sight, out of mind, correct? Still, he had helped them out before, and…well, how much _impression _did it take for them to at least remember that he might be interested in what happened to Kenshin?

Hiko Seijuro's left fist clenched at his side. Maybe he might have wanted to help search? Maybe he could have found Kenshin's kidnappers sooner? Maybe he might have wanted to go along on their mad dash into God-knows-where? Maybe he wanted revenge on those who dared to harm the man he had helped to raise? Maybe he'd just wanted to _know_?

Whether any of that was true or not, would have come to pass or not, Hiko had not been given the choice. Only the old man at Aoi-ya had recalled his existence, and even that was by letter. He had not been visited by anyone.

Why?

His cape aflutter, he whirled around and strode back to his cabin. Grabbing the neglected sake jar, he dusted out a saucer with his thumb and took his first drink in many days. Hell with it. If he wanted answers, maybe it was time to face that nagging feeling and get it over with. He'd avoided it for long enough.

A few saucers later, Hiko felt a little better physically, worse emotionally. He gritted his teeth as a tattered, weak little sentiment gained strength and tugged at his mind, asking to be recognized. He faced it, but still didn't understand what it meant.

He rubbed at his tired eyes again. This was precisely why he'd stopped drinking for a while. He wasn't running. He didn't run. It was just a mystery that bothered him, something he just couldn't seem to grasp, that kept him from enjoying his drink or his solitude.

This was Kenshin's fault.

Kenshin…

Hiko looked up slowly, mind's eye image overlapping with reality once more. Kenshin, as a man with scarred face this time. As he was the last time Hiko saw him. Only his eyes were soft and pleading, Hiko's blending of the mental image neatly with the child Kenshin from his dream.

Something clicked inside his head, and he let out a soft gasp. He knew what it was now. What he'd been missing, what he just couldn't get. His hand clenched over the saucer, and he gritted his teeth, hearing the clay creak dangerously in his grip. A notion that he didn't know how to put into words, and the fact that even if he did there would be no one to say them to cracked the rest of his control.

Hauling back, he flung the cup away from himself, where hit the wall and shattered, and shouted it out the only way he could:

"_You little fool, I don't hate you!_"

It was the wrong answer to the wrong question, and he knew it. But there it was, hanging in the air over the broken chips of his saucer. For a long time, Hiko only stared at the mess he'd made, and numbness settled over him.

"I don't hate you," he repeated, but it wasn't enough.

Every thought, every memory he'd had of Kenshin were ones when something was missing. Something the boy had looked for and wished for every day, but never asked for. Something that flowed far and beyond that inadequate denial. Something that _might _have made a difference…

Why this was so important now of all times, he had no idea. Perhaps age was finally catching up with him…or maybe the worry was just getting to him. Maybe there was something weird in the damn sake.

But he couldn't help but feel that maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there still might be another chance to answer the right question with the right answer.

Before the next morning arrived, the cabin stood silent, shut tight and empty. Hiko had gone.


	13. The Entrance to the Labyrinth

13  
The Entrance to the Labyrinth

There were still running water sounds. They came and went, and since they were sharp and clear and unusual, he noticed them.

It was the constant things that were harder to notice. There was a trembling, his reaction to pain and to cold. So cold. Except his hand. His left hand was bleeding fire that spread up to his elbow.

He flinched away from other hands that touched him, the ones he knew would go for the hand, to bring him pain. They were hurting him again, and he wanted no more of it. But he was too tired to fight, and there were earnest pleas and apologies that reached his ears. They were hurting him, but they were sorry they were hurting him.

Strange…

There was a metallic popping sound, and then a smell he recognized. It was a greasy scent, thick and strong…a medicinal smell. Megumi…her family's medicine, that she gave to him…

He tried to speak, searching for words of apology, and found his tongue stuck. With effort, he moved it, actually hearing it _peel _from the roof of his mouth…and alarming sign of great thirst. Someone else was startled too, judging from a sharp gasp and a barked order from somewhere above him. His head was lifted and he choked on water before he remembered to swallow.

He tried to speak again, the sounds he made were so mangled even in his own ears. He managed something like, "S'rry, Meg'mi-d'no… Th's'one be m'careful nex' time…"

He winced. So hard to talk now. He thought about trying to repeat that, but forgot about it as weight landed on his arms, pinning him down. He fought down panic, and had the presence of mind to focus on the thick medicine smell again. _I'm wounded. They're only trying to help…_

But his distress grew as the pain did, as bandages stuck to caked blood and split flesh were pulled free with sounds not unlike the one his tongue had made when he pulled it free.

_They're helping, they're helping_, he tried reminded himself, but the thought slipped away even as he grasped at it. Only sensation was starting to hold truth. Someone was holding him down and hurting him.

He growled and began to struggle until a hand was suddenly in his hair. A soft, deft stroking in his bangs, the hand cool as the fingers brushed over his forehead.

He became still, feeling very lost, not really able to process the gentle pleasure in the midst of so much agony.

"K-kah-ka'ru-d'no?" he said tentatively.

There was no answer back, but the soothing fingers brushed along his long bangs and across his hairline. He breathed out and relaxed. Kaoru would pet his head like this when he was injured before. When she thought he was asleep. He associated the feeling with urges to rest and the knowledge that everything was all right, that everyone he cared about was just fine.

Was that how it was now?

"K-Ka'ru?" he called again, needing to know, to make certain.

Wind blew over him, smelling like damp earth and water. There was light for his eyes to see by again, soft and white like early morning. He was lying down, on cool grass. There was a gurgling little stream to his left. It…smelled so good, the air around him. He'd forgotten how many flavors the air could have…

A hand was back in his hair again and he looked up quickly to see her there, above him. His head was in her lap. She was looking out over the river, but feeling him move, she looked down. She smiled, running her fingers through his red locks, smoothing them aside only to have them fall right back into place.

He was lost again, looking up at her, at the shine on her raven hair, at the shape of her mouth, at the healthy glow on her cheeks.

"You go back to sleep," she ordered, tapping his forehead with her forefinger before returning her hand to his hair. "Rest, I said. We'll be home soon."

He blinked slowly. "B-but--"

She slid her hand over his eyes, making him close them. "We'll be home soon," she repeated. "_Rest_, Kenshin."

He smiled. He knew better than to argue with that tone. "Ye-yes ma'am."

Fingers entwined with his, holding his hand. He rested. Yesterday had not been all right, and tomorrow might not be all right, but, right now, _right now _was all right. She had come to comfort him once again, and for as long as he was with her, he _was _home.

* * *

Kaoru woke up with wet cheeks.

She sat up on one elbow, eyes scanning her surroundings in confusion as a dream flowed from her. It was night again. She was sharing a borrowed futon with Yahiko.

The boy had shifted in his sleep, one of his small arms had fallen over her stomach as he sprawled out, taking most of the room. She smiled weakly, touching his hand in gratitude for his unintentional comfort to her.

The other two futons they had found in the dusty cabana were occupied by Sano in one, and Misao in the other. Aoshi was supposed to be sleeping in the corner, but when she looked for him, she found him missing. He was probably outside.

Gently untangling herself from her student, Kaoru sat up, shivering in the chilly air.

Even if they hadn't conducted a complete search of the island, they might have missed the cabana, so hidden by its own overgrowth as it was. But, as it was, there was a deeply-worn path leading to it from a ramshackle dock on the narrow beach. Someone came to this cabana often, and had done so for several years.

The place itself, beside being overshadowed by poor yard work, was actually in excellent repair. The insides were dusty, weathered because of the open door and windows, but on the whole, clean and steady. Someone had covered three folded futons in the corner with a sheet. A small table was set to one side of the room, across from a perfectly-centered fireplace. The only other furniture was a shelf in the far corner.

Kaoru got up slowly, moving toward the shelf again, to stare at the object it held, and the small, yellowed bit of paper nailed into the shelf's wood.

She couldn't read the note in the darkness, but she didn't have to, to know what it said:

_For anyone who makes it this far:_

_The hero used an enchanted ball of string to find his way through the labyrinth._

_--Penna Tan_

Indeed beside the paper was a huge ball of string, easily the size of Kaoru's head. In the daytime, she had seen the string was dyed a vibrant blue. And it had been free of grime and dust. Though the note was old, the ball of string was brand new.

Kaoru touched the paper, wondering just how old it was. So yellowed, worn, curled at the edges. Penna Tan… She easily pictured the young man who had invaded her dojo and with desolate eyes ripped away from her life the one who carried her heart with him wherever he went. His blond hair, the blotched skin under his eyes, the exhausted look to his movements and deadpan tone of voice.

It had been hard to hate him, even then, and Kaoru didn't force herself. But how long ago had he written this note or put the ball of string on the shelf? Who was he thinking of when he first scratched out the words? How many others had he taken from their homes, their loved ones?

The trip through Izu-shoto had, for her, been short. Kaoru had been in a silent, desperate, blind hurry, only unwinding and sorting through the information Aoshi and Yahiko had gathered from the dying Penna boy when they were back on a rented boat, moving again, she hoped, towards Kenshin.

The information had been very little by anyone else's standards, but after so many bottomless dead ends, it was like water to the parched.

The crippled boy and his group paid an old fisher to keep and dock their boat every time they sailed through the archipelago, heading toward the mainland. Penna's Island, due west on the southwestern end of Izu-shoto. The excitement had been building, hopes soaring. It was easy to ignore Aoshi's dour attitude and his constant reminders to be on guard, and that they had no idea what they might find, that these Pennas had proven themselves dangerous with a weapon beyond their understanding, that they had no idea in what condition they might find Kenshin.

It didn't matter. After months, they finally knew where to look.

So what exactly had they been expecting, when they finally arrived at the little island, owned by a Penna Hikaru? Kaoru could admit to herself she expected people at least, hostile or otherwise. She had expected to meet resistance, if not with people, then the walls of a labyrinth.

She had imagined a maze would be made up of rising walls, or of thorny hedges like in a western fairy tale. She had even filled her pockets with chalk, thinking ahead that they might have to mark their way somehow if they needed to navigate the maze.

But there was…nothing. The island had seemed too small to hold the wondrous, terrifying Greek labyrinth. Nothing on it but a small shelter. There weren't even any animals or fruit trees to suggest life had ever touched this place in some time. No reason to believe it was the right island and that Kenshin had ever been there.

Except a note signed by Penna Tan.

Kaoru touched the paper again, reassuring herself that it was real, that this wasn't just one more dead end…

She turned away from the shelf, a little surprised to see that the sun was rising. Either it had been closer to morning that she had first thought, or she had been lost in her thoughts for a long time. She moved to the door to get a better look at the colors spreading on the water's surface, but instead her eyes were drawn to Aoshi.

He stood on the beach, where the water was just beginning to reach out far enough to touch his boots. He wasn't facing the water, but into the foliage of the island instead. In a nervous gesture Kaoru had no idea he could possess, he was running the thumb of his right hand back and forth across his lips.

She turned away from the door quickly, unsettled for reasons she couldn't explain. _It's not your business, Kamiya, what Shinomori Aoshi does with himself when he thinks no one is watching._

But nervous habits, vacant stares, and idleness were not Aoshi's style.

"_You're Misao, right?"_

Kaoru bit her lip, but decided to shake it off. Worrying about one man was more than enough. She moved to the fireplace, forcing her thoughts toward making breakfast. Or at least build a fire so that someone less inept at cooking could take over when they woke.

Passing by the moth-eaten futon, she with some difficultly roused Yahiko out of bed and sent him outside to find wood, then for good measure, booted Sanosuke out of bed to help him.

* * *

"Well, _she's _feeling a little better," Yahiko grumbled, gathering wood with his eyes almost closed. "Sheesh. All that whining and talking she does in her sleep, _I_ hardly got any! Then she kicks me out of bed like that! Feh!"

"_I_'m the one she actually kicked," Sano said, dumping his entire load of wood into Yahiko's already full arms and shoved him back in the direction of the cabana. Yahiko staggered, snarling several things involving the reproductive organs of assorted historical figures and animals. Sano winced, wondering where the boy could have learned that kind of language. Perhaps the yakuza were to thank for that.

He gathered another armful of wood, just so she wouldn't make him go back out for a while, and walked past Aoshi, who hadn't moved from his spot on the beach, even though the water was lapping at his boots now.

"Shinomori?"

Aoshi glanced at him, his eyes a bit strange. At least to Sano, they were.

Sano frowned at him. "You all right?"

Aoshi merely lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and went back to staring at the trees.

Sano blinked at the back of his head. He opened his mouth to say something else, but just then a blood-freezing scream cut through the air. Aoshi jerked, Sano dropped his wood, and the two of them dashed for the cabana.

"_Kaoru_!" That was Yahiko shouting. "_KAORU_!"

Sano barged in first, Aoshi only just behind him, to see Misao and Yahiko leaning over the fireplace. Kaoru was nowhere to be seen.

"What--?"

Yahiko leapt to his feet. "She fell in! It's not a fireplace, it's a big hole!"

"She was going to drop some wood in, and she just tripped and…" Misao added, also rising to make room as Sanosuke and Aoshi hurried forward to look.

It was indeed not a fireplace, but a hole cut into the floor. And not just the floor. As Sano stuck his arm inside, he not only felt no end, but an icy draft coming up from somewhere below. It continued down. They hadn't noticed it because of the shadows, mistaking the darkness for use and soot. A perfect optical illusion.

"Jou-chan!" he shouted into the hole. "Kaoru! Are you all right!"

No answer.

There was a shaky moment of silence before Aoshi said, "It appears Kamiya-san has found the entrance to the labyrinth."


	14. The Explanation

14  
The Explanation

"_Finally_!" a voice huffed as Kaoru lay across the stones, sucking in air greedily.

The fall itself had not been as alarming as falling into that pool. No, the pool had been darkness and cold unlike any she had ever experienced before, and there had been a moment of blind panic, before she had forcibly pulled her wits together, that she could not be certain that she was struggling in the right direction.

But the tiny circle of light had saved her, once she was able to twist around and catch sight of it. The hole from where she had fallen, set in black and dirty stone and earth, broken through by tree roots…she swam toward it, broke the surface, and breathed air again.

Though not any warmer than the stacked rocks she had pulled herself onto, she pushed aside her chill and breathlessness and pressed away her sopping bangs to face the one who had spoken to her.

The first thing she noticed, because that was, for the most part, all the light from the ceiling could reach, was the chair in which he was sitting. It had wheels on it, large round wheels taller than the chair itself, and much smaller ones to the fore. His legs were covered with a blanket that seemed to be made of small, mismatched pieces of cloth sewn together.

She watched as two hands came to rest on the large wheels, and with a light push, the chair rolled forward on the smooth stone floor.

"All that racket up there, and only one came down? Who are you, and who are you with?"

The light fell over him. He was a young man, perhaps only a year or so her junior. Black, curling hair fell over what would actually be a very handsome face, if not for an obscene parody of a smile stretched eerily across his features.

But it was there any idea of beauty ended. The young man's body was warped and crooked, and looked weak and frail, like the wrong kind of wind might cause him to go flying apart.

But his eyes didn't reflect that reality. No, his eyes, blue like the ocean kissing the sand above their heads, told a different story entirely.

"I said, who are you?" he demanded again. "Why are you here? I'm very busy, and I don't have all day."

Kaoru's eyes narrowed at the snappish tone. Teeth chattering, she stood up and began to squeeze icy water from her ponytail.

"I am Kamiya Kaoru," she said, very quietly. "And I'm here for Himura Kenshin."

All at once, the smile dropped, and the young man stared at her, his mouth slackening just a little. "Kamiya Kaoru…from Himura's little school in Tokyo?"

Kaoru did not bother to correct exactly who owned the dojo. It was, by her own adamant volition, every bit as much Kenshin's home as it was hers. And she wanted him returned to it. Now.

"Where is he?" she asked bluntly. It had been too long to bother with pleasantries or play games.

The grotesque smile slid back onto his face. "Not any more for words than he was, I see. I'm Hikaru. Penna Hikaru. It's a pleasure to meet you, Kamiya-san."

"Where is Kenshin? I won't ask again."

"Tch, you're a badly-raised one. Well, come along, then, if you really must know where he is."

He turned and began to wheel himself into the shadows.

Kaoru hesitated, casting her eyes at the ceiling, where her friends were. Common sense was easy to distinguish at the moment. She was alone with only a wooden sword, in the enemies' territory. She wasn't foolish enough to believe that he was going to lead her right to Kenshin, or that there weren't stronger and less crippled arms ready to take her down as soon as she stepped into the shadows with him. Better to wait until the others joined her.

Or perhaps, extra arms weren't needed. Kaoru heard the echoing sound of a gun cocking, followed by the an identical sound of another doing the same.

Slowly turning her eyes back to Hikaru, she saw that he had laid a pistol over his covered legs, and had another hanging lazily from his fingers.

"I was taught the sword once, a long time ago," he said quietly. "When I was younger. Got no idea if I'd have been any good or not--one more thing your man has denied me. But I do know that I'm a good shot with this…and even if I wasn't, we're in caverns and tunnels here. Close. I won't miss. Now don't worry about your friends still up top. They'll be joining you soon enough. Now come along. I'll bet you're dying to see where he's been living, aren't you?"

* * *

Nearly thirty minutes were spent simply walking. Kaoru followed Hikaru, who had turned his wheelchair and was actually using his misshapen legs to push himself along backwards. He didn't seem to have any need to look where to go. There were no twists or turns, just one long tunnel, so low she had to stoop slightly as she walked.

"So…did you find your way here by my cousin's silly little clue?"

She only stared at him, following him at a pace that matched his own slow wheeling.

"Badly raised indeed," he chuckled. "Take that last torch off the sconce there. There aren't going to be any more for the rest of the way."

Kaoru wordlessly stood on her toes to lift down the last torch.

"What a gloomy personality," Hikaru lamented mockingly. "Don't you ever smile, Girl?"

"My smile is in somewhere in the darkness here."

"Huh?" Hikaru blinked, his shuffling slowing a little.

Kaoru did likewise, as if not willing to get any closer to him than she had to. "Kenshin," as if that was adequate enough elaboration. "Kenshin is my smile."

She said nothing more and he fell silent as well, but his own smile was gone, replaced by an incredulous expression as he sped up again.

"Is that why you risk so much, Girl? Is that why you've just placed your foolish self at my mercy? Because he makes you _smile_?"

"I didn't say because he makes me smile…Penna-san. Though he does, that. I said that Kenshin _is _my smile. I can't smile without him. I can look like I'm smiling, but I can never really when he's not with me. If I never saw him again, I would never smile again. I haven't smiled since you took him away from me. Do you have any idea what that's like, Penna-san?"

In another tone, her words might have been taken as sarcasm…but they weren't. She sounded as though she really wanted to know, and that, though he let none show on his face, unsettled him.

Hikaru maneuvered his wheelchair around and began steering quickly toward his chambers, needing a few moments' distance from the girl. She was far enough away from the entrance that he could send Hoshi or Oaka after her if she tried to run back down the tunnel to her friends.

It was best, he decided, not to smile when he was around her anymore.

* * *

He was only vaguely surprised when she followed him all the way into the rainbow room.

His confidence returned, he wheeled his way up one of the side ramps toward his usual place on the dais, imagining the crossing rainbows welcoming him as he went. Turning his chair, he enjoyed the expression of awe and surprise as she stood, flaming torch still in hand, under the rainbows and light glittering through the Mindsifter.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" he purred, smirking a little when Hoshi, huge and robust thing that she was, burst out in the open from one of the alcoves where Tan used to keep his books.

"Hikaru-sama! Where did you go? I was worried, I--" The muscular woman stopped, eyes widening at the sight of Kaoru.

He sat back, immensely enjoyed his enforcer's expression. Of course Hoshi was surprised at another woman coming in, and unescorted. Hardly routine, and anything out of routine made the burly woman uncomfortable.

When she looked to him for direction, he only shrugged and shifted his head. He made a subtle gesture that she would understand, and she brightened. Kaoru, knowing nothing of what was about to happen, watched her leave from a different tunnel.

"Where is Kenshin?" Kaoru said again.

Hikaru huffed. This girl was so single-minded. Did she never think of anything else?

"You'll see him soon enough. While we wait, I thought you might like…an explanation."

Her head tilted to the side, and he was surprised enough to blink when it a wisp of pure anger, controlled and inward, like smoke curling from the lip of a dragon, rose into her eyes.

"You know, Penna-san…I really don't care why you've done what you've done to us. Well, that's not true. I do care, but I want Kenshin more than that. I want him here, in my arms. I want him, and all of us, safe in our home with full bellies and sitting close together next to the fire as winter gets closer to us. _That _means so much more to me than any reason you have for revenge against Kenshin."

Hikaru stared at her a moment, and despite his resolve before not to, he smiled. Only slightly, and without really being aware he was doing it. "That sounds nice. I wish I could do those things myself."

"How badly have you hurt him?"

"You _are _single-minded, aren't you? I said you'd see him soon enough, but you have to wait. And even though you're not interested, I think I'll tell you a little story anyway. Chances are, Tan already told you the first part. You know, about the inventor, his son, and his nephew?"

He nodded as if she had responded, though she hadn't, and continued. "Well, Grandpa--or Dadarusu, Daedalus, or however he might have been explained to you--he never did stop trying to flee the deaths of his son and his nephew.

"Kind of went a bit mad because of what happened, really. But they say genius and madness are pretty close, don't they? And no one can say Grandpa wasn't brilliant.

"He kept running, though. He appeared in a new story a time or two, but for the most part, he moved on until he ended up here in the east." Hikaru spread his arms theatrically. "Was pretty different back then, all those generations ago, I would imagine. Don't know what all he did here, but it was here he learned something new that helped him to develop this."

He reached out and caressed one of the low-hanging crystals, careful not the stir the delicate Patterns. "The Mindsifter. His greatest invention. His opus.

"I'm not as brilliant as he is. I don't know how it works beyond the basics. I know how to make it do what it does. I know that…whether I want to or not." His mouth twisted wistfully, and he let go of the crystal.

"It's kind of operates on the basic principles of hypnosis. When you use it, you can suggest things, drill things into another person's mind. It's more than the mind can take, the way your eyes follow the patterns, the way they can twist your thoughts inside, shred them, destroy them…or simply bind your will to certain thoughts and commands.

"Oh, a glorious invention indeed." He paused again, still enjoying the drama, enjoying the looking of dawning spreading across the young woman's face.

"Well…Grandpa, even nuts as he was by that time, realized that this was something that probably wasn't always going to see the hands of good. So he built this mazy place--at first--just to hide the Mindsifter, just as he once created a maze to hide a monster. And he set his children--yes he did indeed have more after Icarus--Ikarusu--to guard it.

"I think that, even then, not after he so failed his own son, he didn't feel he could trust them to do the right thing. So he used the Mindsifter on them, his own sons, to guide their behavior. And eventually, that got worse. The old man grew crazier as time passed. Wanted to believe that they were his Icarus and his Talos--Taro--restored to him. Wanted them to believe it too.

"And ever after that, there has been a Icarus and a Talos. An Ikarusu and a Taro. And sometimes they're called Hikaru and Tan."

He paused again, looking expectantly at the girl.

"So you're descended from this inventor who lived thousands of years ago?" she said softly.

"Right! You're a smart girl, Kamiya-san. We grow more Japanese at heart as long as we've been here, but it's all Greek in the bloodline. We have to ship in females to bear children every so often…" He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively. "But that's another story entirely.

"See, not all of us wanted to be the Ones that Fell. Not all of us wanted to live on in Grandfather's madness. But we don't have a choice. The Mindsifter, used on us even as infants. It's built in. Even when identities are developed and separate, we still have to do the things that they did. Only as the time passed, it's gotten so warped… We don't just do the things that Grandpa expected us to do. We are forced to repeat history--"

"Like the way Tan died," Kaoru murmured. "Trying to fly like Ikarusu."

"Exactly. That's why he walked with that limp. That's what happened to my body. We have no desire to keep trying to fly, and yet we have to. So we tried to create the wings, we tried to make it work, exactly like in the stories…but it doesn't. It's not possible to fly, Kamiya-san. We just break ourselves.

"For the last three or four generations, it's been this way. My grandfather died of the fall, my father died of the fall, the same for Tan's father, and for his big brother too.

"And this is where Battousai comes in. There was a gap between my father's birth and mine that was bridged by one more sibling in Tan's line, his older brother, another Taro. It was because of Taro that we had a tiny chance of being spared this life. Cousin Taro had a plan, he had a way to set us free, and end the curse of Daedalus forever!"

"Let me guess," Kaoru interrupted. "As Hitokiri Battousai, Kenshin ruined your chance by killing Taro?"

"Wrong."

Kaoru's eyebrows raised in surprised.

"Wrong," Hikaru spat. "Hitokiri Battousai _didn't _kill Taro. But he should have. If he had killed my cousin, we would have been saved. And this glorified oubliette would have been emptied out years ago, the strings holding the crystals rotted away, and the Mindsifter no more!"

"I don't understand."

"Well, it's simple. Taro, who was Mindsifted into being Talos before Tan and I were born, had this idea of leaping into the chaos of the Bakumatsu. It never touched this island, so he took up a sword and went all the way to Kyoto. He was hoping to die. You must understand, _he _did not have a parallel cousin to play Icarus, and that meant it would be up to him to Mindsift the next pair, meaning myself and his younger brother. But if he died, the duty would fall to no one. He couldn't kill himself because of the indoctrination of the Mindsifter and Grandpa's ideals, but that didn't mean he couldn't go out and _get _himself killed.

"He didn't specifically go out looking for Hitokiri Battousai, but he did find him one day. He couldn't believe his luck! He challenged him, but… I suppose, the fighting finally winding down by then, that Battousai was losing his taste for killing. He wouldn't kill him. Battousai wouldn't give us the release we needed. He only played around with my cousin, no matter how aggressive he was, no matter how he pleaded…until he eventually just knocked him out and left him.

"Maybe if Taro had gone into those battle a little earlier, he might have had a better chance, especially if he'd had the luck to run into Battousai in _those _days but--"

He stumbled to a halt when he realized the girl's posture had changed. She stood, head down, fists clenched by her sides. Trembling in a way that reminded him again of dragonfire smoke.

"Oh…" she whispered. "You bastard. You _bastard_!"

Her face raised, eyes both streaming and blazing with the agony and rage of an epiphany nine longs months in the making.

"All this time…all this time, I thought you had punished Kenshin because of something that he did. Because what he did in that horrible time. Because of the ones he had killed as hitokiri. But now…now I've found out you've done this to him for _this_…? Because he spared a life? Because he wouldn't let someone use him as a means for suicide? _For nothing_?"

"_It's not for nothing_!" Hikaru screamed back at her. "Look at me! Do you think I like this? You haven't seen what's in this maze, Kamiya-san! You haven't seen what else the Mindsifter has done! What the brainwashing and debts and obligations we inherited has done to the people living in here! For all my own insanity, my own ruined mind, I never liked the fear, and pain, and hopelessness we've heaped on even the lowest criminal in this hellish place. There is so much weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth here, my cousin Tan hadn't slept voluntarily in _years_.

"For God's sake, woman, what else was a hitokiri _good _for? If there was one death, one life he could have taken that would have made a difference, that would have stopped a great blight of suffering, that would have achieved a dream generations old, it would have been my cousin Taro's! But, no, he couldn't even do that!"

"It's not his fault! It's not Kenshin's fault what's happened to you, and it's certainly not his fault for what _you've _done! Kenshin learned that there are ways of bringing about a dream without killing. Haven't you ever thought of that?"

Hikaru laughed harshly. "This goes deeper than you know. Do you think, even for a second, that my cousin and I bring people here and take away their very beings because we want to, or even because we're programmed to do it? The Mindsifter makes up the links of our chains and keeps the curse running strong in our blood, but there are others that keep this horror story going as well."

"I don't care! This is all for nothing but a freak chance! If your cousin had never even met Kenshin back then…it wouldn't have made a difference at all! You wouldn't be blaming him at all!"

"Maybe not, but after the legendary hitokiri refused to kill him, my cousin gave up trying to die an honorable death, came home, and sifted Tan and me. It's reason enough for me to hate his sweet red insides, my dear."

Kaoru stared at him for only a second's worth of silence before she lifted one of her arms and pointed at the glistening web of the Mindsifter. "You used this on him…didn't you?"

"Indeed." Hikaru blinked as voices floated in from the tunnel leading to the entrance pool. "Ah, that would be your others friends, finally deciding to join us. I wonder what took them so long? Hoshi?"

Hoshi appeared immediately, followed by a small army of rough-looking men. She pointed to the tunnel and they filed toward it, weapons at ready.

"Make sure they know we have the girl," Hikaru said after them. "They might be more inclined to behave if they know."

Kaoru grasped the hilt of her bokken, but Hikaru clicked his tongue at her. "I thought you wanted to be with Himura-san? I told you you'd see him, didn't I?"

He watched the girl take several defensive steps back as Hoshi advanced on her, her body in a wrestling posture. "You went through such effort to come here and be with him, it would be a shame to keep you apart."


	15. Berserker Kaoru

15  
Berserker Kaoru

He wanted to sleep.

The ghostly images of the old lady came, often with entreaties. _Please get up, Kenshin-chan. You have to eat and move around a little…get your strength back._

It wasn't as if he wanted to ignore her, exactly, aside from being vaguely uncertain that she was real. He just…really, really wanted to sleep.

In his dreams, it was better. The warmth of home. The sense of those he so missed. Sanosuke. Yahiko. Megumi, especially, when the pain was great at times, and he wished that she was there with her gift of taking it away…

Of his master, he dreamed so very often. How he wished he was here now. Just the thought was enough to drive the fear back. The dark things would run from the light of his blade.

But…he was afraid to see Master Hiko too… Lying on the cold ground, he would turn away from his master's shadow and cover his head. Hiko wouldn't hurt him…but Kenshin didn't think he could bear his ungentle tongue. Not right now. He was already sorry. He didn't know for what he was supposed to be sorry, but he was. Very, very much so. He didn't need the master's help to know what an idiot he was, especially since now he really was one.

And always, always there was Kaoru. Her hands, a bit rough and calloused at the palms, but so soft on the tops. These soft parts, the backs of her fingers, she'd brush against his forehead and cheeks. He always saw her within the light, because that's where she still was.

Then he would wake up, and it was dark instead. She was not there, and had never been. The fact usually brought him to tears, but also filled him with relief. If she was not where he was now, then that meant that she was _safe _instead. It was simple enough, a real and whole thought that he could cling to…

But he wouldn't wish her real. In a way, he was even more afraid to see her than he was to see Hiko.

He didn't deserve the admiration. Not from her, not from any of them. Yet it was there. In their eyes. In the way they trusted him, believed in his strength. As Kenshin lay curled up in the all the blankets and scraps Aijo-dono could find to swaddle him with, he felt the tears, so hot on his chilled face.

_Where is my spirit? _he wondered in the silence, and for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to gather the broken pieces of it, because he cut himself the harder he tried. Over and over again, until he was forced to give up, or lose what little he had left…

How would she look at him, then, if she could see him now? See what he had allowed to happen?

With anger? Sadness? Disappointment?

_Pity_?

He squeezed his eyes shut. He could not bear it if she ever looked at him with eyes like that. He wanted her to remember him the way he was.

Not like this.

The tears tired him. Kenshin slept again. Far away, he thought he heard Aijo pleading again. _Hadn't_ he sent her away? Maybe that was a dream too.

Maybe it all was. All of it.

So it had to be okay to just keep sleeping.

* * *

The rage was unbearable.

It burned away thought and reason in its white-hot inferno. It took away sight, sucked away sound in a great roaring, and left only dull echoes of the strongest sensations. Impacts through her wrists, a burning in her throat. Her chest felt like it would explode, the very dim awareness that her breath was coming in short, harsh sobs.

The rage was _unbearable_.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

They had no right to touch Kenshin. He known so little happiness, he worked so hard, trying to make up for the things he had done, keenly feeling the sorrow of others, lifting so many burdens onto himself.

_Oh, God, lift it off him! _She felt her throat burn again, chest ever tighter as her fury dredged words from somewhere deep and cold. _Please lift it off! He's carried it long enough! Don't hurt him, don't shame him, please, it's already so heavy…so heavy…_

The fire began to smother in the waves of despair that came over her. Sensation came back, but she ignored it, drowning instead of burning now. Someone had caught hold of her, supporting her, a voice in her ear that she couldn't hear beyond someone sobbing close by.

A senseless non-reason, a temper tantrum. Something that was not in any way his fault… They hurt him as if it would lessen their own hurt. Took their anger, pain, and frustration out on him, inflicting it back on him--_using _Kenshin. Oh, if they hurt him…if they hurt him--

"_God, Kaoru, will you say something_? _Will you_? _Kaoru_!"

She blinked slowly into the dark, blazing eyes of her only student. Barely an inch from her face, she felt his hands on her upper arms, nails digging into her skin.

She nodded shakily at him, taking in a few deep breaths. Her throat hurt.

Yahiko loosened his hold, but didn't let go. The way he looked at her made her nervous, eyes so wide and wary.

"Wh-what…?"

She was on her knees, she realized. Her hand, knuckles white, was still clutching all that was left her splintered weapon, the hilt. How had that…?

She looked around. People were lying everywhere, some unconscious, some awake but cowering away against the walls, holding pained limbs and bereft of fight. The woman who had been about to attack her before the world had whited out, that Hoshi, was lying on the floor near the bottom of the dais.

Sano, Misao, and Aoshi stood to the left of her, wearing expressions not unlike Yahiko's.

"Jou-chan, are you all right?" Sano asked slowly.

Kaoru stood up. Yahiko still held on, as if afraid she might run away or something. She placed her hands, one still holding the broken hilt, on his shoulders, hoping to steady them both.

"I think so," she said hoarsely, throat burning with every word. "What…what happened here?"

"You did."

The words were spoken by Aoshi, soft but matter-of-fact. He drew winces from Sano and Misao, though neither of them took their eyes off Kaoru to look at him.

"I…I did?"

"We took care of some of them over there," Misao said, weakly gesturing at the way they had come. "But…but when we came in, you were all over the place…and…yelling things…"

Again, Kaoru's eyes swept over the scene, the couple-dozen downed thugs scattered across he stone floor. "I did this?"

"You did, yes."

All eyes turned to Penna Hikaru, who had not moved from his place. A gun sat within easy reach on his lap, but the hand he might have used to wield it was supporting his chin instead, thoughtful eyes on Kaoru.

"I knew you were a kendo teacher, but I had no idea you were a berserker, Kamiya-san."

"Where's Kenshin?" Sanosuke ground out.

Hikaru rolled his eyes. "Not another one! Don't any of you care about _anything _else? This is a labyrinth. It's meant for losing things, for holding secrets. Happy hunting."

Alarm sent a fresh wave of adrenaline through Kaoru, but it was Sano and Aoshi, with Misao just at their heels, who moved first, dashing up the dais as Hikaru hauled himself up. In a maddeningly unhurried movement to contrast with the frantic pace of the three, he reached out and pulled at a small rope, neatly camouflaged by the chaos of the Mindsifter.

They stopped as the room shook, the rainbows shattered, and a hollow roar completely blotted out the sound of the waterfall. The last Kaoru saw of Penna Hikaru was that obscene grin as a great stone wall came crashing from the darkness of the ceiling. The dais was neatly split in half, and the Mindsifter and Hikaru were sealed on one side.

The shock passed, if feet were lost they were regained, and over a terrible ringing in her ears, Kaoru could hear Sano's futile swearing as he slammed his fist into the thick wall.

It was carved with designs, murals, like the walls surrounding the Mindsifter behind it had. But these were not of young boys falling. They were different angles of a young man and woman, and a ball of string changing hands…

"Did anyone remember to bring the string?"

The question sounded odd in the air, effectively ruining Sano's angry tirade. A fist still against the stone wall blocking him from his quarry, he blinked in frustrated surprise in her direction. "What?"

Aoshi reached into his coat and pulled out the blue ball, holding it out for Kaoru to take if she wished. She did, thankful he had had the presence of mind to bring it along. It was wet--like they all were--from being in the underground pool, but it should still serve its purpose.

Kaoru placed the ball at the crook of her arm, and transferred the broken hilt to the same hand. To eyes watching, she might have seemed calm as she crossed the stone floor to where the robust woman who had attempted to capture her lay. But in truth, she was feeling tired, with a layer of detachment that may have been the beginnings of shock.

Only there wasn't time to deal with that now. Not with Kenshin so close. Kenshin needed her.

Hoshi was stirring, bringing shaking hands up to her battered face. Kaoru felt only the smallest sliver of guilt, overshadowed by a mild amazement. She had no memory of causing this damage. Hikaru had called her a berserker. Whatever that meant, it was not an experience she wanted to repeat. Ever.

She stopped just by Hoshi's side, the bulky woman glancing up and drawing back with a sharp breath at the sight of her.

Again, Kaoru could only feel the vaguest guilt over the woman's fearful reaction. If anything, it was a compliment. Kaoru felt like one of the breezes that had once came from under the rainbows would be too much of a burden to keep her standing.

She showed none of this as she knelt by Hoshi's side. "I need to get to Kenshin. I am very certain you know where I might find him. Take me to him."

* * *

"Hikaru-sama?"

He sat in his wheelchair again, staring at the reversed carvings on the wall he had dropped. The Mindsifter glittered before it. The impact had jerked loose a few of the Patterns, which would need to be repaired when he got the opportunity. A nuisance, that. Tan had been much better with its maintenance that Hikaru could ever hope to be.

He turned his head just enough that Oaka would know that he had heard him and not waste time looking for confirmation.

"What do we do now, my lord?"

Oaka had met with the bad end of the Kamiya girl's unrestrained fury. In fact it was over the enforcer's collarbone that she had finally broken her weapon. She could still do several interesting things with what was left of the hilt, though.

She and Himura-san were an awful lot alike. No matter how much he thought he was in control, somehow one of them had found an impossible way of defying him.

He thought again of the last time he had mindsifted Himura Kenshin. When it had not worked the first time, he had done it again and again. An experiment of sorts, just to see how long he could do it. Do the impossible. Do what no one else could do.

And seeing that little slip of a girl, eyes glazed over, ragged battle cries bursting from her throat as she ploughed through his best fighters like a warrior of a thousand battles…

Kenshin meant a lot her, if his coming to harm incited such a reaction.

Perhaps it was possible that the others with Kamiya girl were full of their own surprises. Hikaru would do his best not to underestimate them again.

"Hikaru-sama?"

"What? Oh, them? Don't worry about them, Oaka. All we've to do is bide our time."

True enough, too. After all, the labyrinth itself had its own surprises.

* * *

They followed a path, Hoshi unwillingly in the lead. She walked slowly, holding an aching head and muttering obscenities…but no more than that. Not with several angry, glowering people behind her.

Sano had wanted to try breaking the wall that separated them from Hikaru, but Kaoru talked him out of it easily enough just by saying that it was more important that they take Kenshin back right now.

She had told them the "reason". Why Kenshin had been taken from them, why he had been held prisoner in this cold, dark place.

A bitter, furious silence had fallen over them all after a few expressions of disbelief. The silence was painful. Most of them were in need of some kind of reaction. A chance to scream, and enemy to fight, vengeance to be planned…

But there was no time. Not yet. They were too close to Kenshin now to allow their objective to change or waver.

Impatience began to build on this tension, though, the longer they walked. Sano, who walked behind Hoshi, keeping a close eye on her, tried to remember the way back, but he was soon hopelessly turned around.

He hoped at least one of the others was paying attention, because if they had to depend on him to get back, well…he had a hard enough time finding his way when he wasn't trying to do it by torchlight among tunnels that all looked alike.

More twists, more turns. Left at the first fork, right at the next. Walking and walking, until their only torch, held aloft by Misao, began to snap and sputter.

Kenshin didn't do anything wrong. It had almost become like the most useless mantra to the former fight merchant. _He didn't do anything._ For once, Kenshin was completely innocent.

Which made him, just this once, a…victim.

Sano's fists clenched. God, if this woman didn't move any faster--

Light twinkled around another bend, dim and flickering, cast by a fire. "There," Hoshi said. "He'd been living there with this old couple--"

There was a rush all at once, not so much that they didn't remember to keep an eye on their guide, but their eagerness to see Kenshin had them almost running the last several feet through that low, dipping tunnel.

The little cavern it opened into did indeed have an old man and woman there. The old lady, who was stirring a thin stew in a pot, looked up in surprise at the large group that had intruded in her home. The old man move nearer to her, knuckles tightening on the long stick in his hand.

But no sign of Kenshin. No gleam of red hair in the shadows.

Sano heard a deep breath, taken in by Kaoru, before she moved out of the group toward the wary-eyed old couple.

"Please, we're sorry to trouble you, but we were told our friend might be here. Have you seen him? Himura Kenshin, he's got long red hair and a scar on his left cheek?" Kaoru made two lines across her own cheek with her finger.

The old lady smiled blandly. "Why, yes, we've seen him, dear."

"You have?" Yahiko piped eagerly.

"Yes. But he ran off from here some time ago…poor boy. He never stays long, always coming and going…"

Her words faltered when Kaoru head lowered into her hands. Manners forsaken, Kaoru made a low, helpless sound in her throat.

Sano felt a lump in his own. _So close_.

He moved to Kaoru's side, gently pulling her until she turned around, murmuring an apology for disturbing their dinner.

The old woman, looking uncertain, opened her mouth, but stopped when her husband put his hand on her shoulder. "No trouble, young man," he said.

After the old man and woman insisted they didn't know anything about Kenshin or his whereabouts, a polite but not very serious offer to stay for dinner was made, but even if any of them were inclined to take their food, there was not an appetite among them.

The next several hours were spent forcing Hoshi to guide them through other caverns were other people were living.

"Living" being a term to be used loosely with the hungry, hopeless people that lay about like piles of rags in some of the more open caverns. The destitution, the refuse, the smells… Most faces turned from them, looking away into meager cook fires or to companions because the group traveled with Hoshi, a well-known enforcer. Others, though, were half-demented, and came nearer, eyes eager and fingers outstretched to touch strong, healthy, and young flesh, darkened from sun, and carrying the smells of fauna and fresh air…

They were easy enough to scatter with quick movements or sharp words.

Made that way by those glittering toys on strings. The Mindsifter, Kaoru called it. It was awful, what had been done to these people. Kenshin had probably spent most of his time here trying to help them or something…probably…

The further they went, the worse off Kaoru became, and eventually Yahiko wasn't doing much better. Kaoru had been shaky since her limit break in the rainbow room, and Yahiko kept looking at the people in the communal caves like they were ghouls. Once or twice Sano almost though he heard the boy breathing strangely, the ragged breathing of barely-repressed anger, but he said nothing.

What could he say? He felt the same. Even as he kept his eyes trained on the shadows, looking for a hint of red, or a gleam of violet eyes in the dark, or peering through ratty blankets. Even as his tongue automatically asked anyone who looked like they might listen, of news of a short, skinny man with a cross-shaped scar.

They had taken so long to get here. It had been _so long_. The things that Tan had said. That he would suffer. That they wouldn't recognize him. What had been done to him? What would they find?

Finally Sano had enough and had their unwilling guide take them back to the room where they had came from, which was now cleared of the men they had fought earlier.

It was no longer so well lit since Hikaru had shut out the sunlight, but it was the place where a lot of fresh torches were kept. No lamps, no lanterns, just sticks and cloth soaked with oil.

Sano left Kaoru, resting by a wall with her face on her knees, with Yahiko sitting nearby. The two of them looked drained.

Misao and Aoshi were effectively standing watch on Hoshi, who didn't look like she wanted to do much more than sit on the floor holding her aching head.

He briefly considered resting himself, but his mind and body were too full of restless energy, especially where that old man and woman were concerned. Something just didn't seem right…

Coming to a quick decision, he lit an unsullied torch by another hanging on a wall sconce and went back to Kaoru.

"Jou-chan?" he said softly, waiting for her to lift her head. She looked so pale and tired when he did that he felt a little guilty for waking her. "You still got that string, right?"

She nodded and he held out a hand for it.

He held it for a moment, rolling it around until he found the place where the end was tied. He unwound it carefully, loosening several feet of slack before handing the end to Kaoru.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go look around for a while. I'll use this to find my way back."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. I won't go far."

She looked like she wanted to say something else, but seemed to change her mind, just nodding and wrapping the string around her hand so she wouldn't drop it if she fell asleep.

Amazing himself, Sanosuke actually did find his way back to the old couple's cavern. He had been looking in on light and campfires, and eventually found his way back to theirs, from a different end of the cave than Hoshi had showed them.

He moved through he tunnel in a crouch, because the ceiling was so low. It was not his intention to sneak, at first. Only to go back and talk to them, ask them about Kenshin's condition, if they knew how he was. A good idea, now that Kaoru wasn't around. He could prepare her, maybe, if it was very bad…

But he stopped just before he came out of the tunnel.

There was a third person in the cave now.

A cold, creeping feeling Sano couldn't name washed through him. It made his eyes water and his fingertips go numb as the old lady coaxed the small, meek form to sit beside the fire.

He was half-naked, and his hair had grown much longer, falling over his face and down his back in tangles, dirty and dulled from its original color. Pitifully thin, collar bone too sharp, rips too pronounced. An arm was curled up and pressed to his chest, the hand wrapped in soiled strips of cloth.

_You won't recognize him_, Penna Tan had said. And Sano almost didn't. If he hadn't known the sight of him so well, if he wasn't so distinctive, perhaps if he hadn't lifted his head to display that so-familiar scar on his cheek…

But as it was, there was no doubt that the shivering, waiflike little thing so acquiescently letting the old woman situate him, drawing a blanket around his bare shoulders, was their missing rurouni.

Sano came out the tunnel completely and began walking toward them, legs heavy like lead. The ball of string had dropped from his fingers to the floor, still leading the way back to his friends.

There was a small alcove, a little groove dug below the overhang. When they had come before, Kenshin had been there, lying in that groove and covered over with the blankets. His hiding place had only seemed like a pile of rags.

Kenshin was quickly blocked from view when the old man moved in front of him and his wife, holding up his stick.

"You won't be taking him anywhere, Boy," he growled through clenched teeth. "You've all hurt him enough."

"Mister," Sano said roughly, needing Kenshin back in his sight again, "That man is my best friend. We've been through hell trying to get him back. Now move _out of my way_."

Not waiting for an answer, Sano reached out and snatched the stick easily from the oldster's grip. Tossing it aside, he moved past the old man…and stood before Kenshin.

The rurouni had not once looked up, staring blearily at the flickering fire. Sano's heart thundered in his ears, and his hands shook as he knelt in front of his friend. He looked for reaction, acknowledgement, recognition…but there was nothing.

"Kenshin?" Sano whispered, then, louder, "Kenshin? Kenshin, it's me. It's Sano."

Finally the pale, dirty face turned to him, and with one slow blink, his dulled purple eyes seemed to get a little clearer.

Encouraged, Sano reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

Kenshin jerked like he'd been shocked. His eyes widened, jaw dropped. Sano realized then that Kenshin had not believed he was real until he touched him.

He kept that grip, tightening it a little to enforce the truth, and in turn, Kenshin lifted a shaking hand, fingers out to touch his face. "S-s-seh…Sah…S-Sano?"

Sano leaned his face against Kenshin's timid touch, trying to prove that he was real. "That's right, Buddy. It's me."

Kenshin's bottom lip was sucked in, teeth pressing on it as moisture filled his impossibly wide eyes. "Sah-Sano…I…I…s-sorry. So s-sorry."

"Oh, God," Sanosuke whispered, pulling his friend against him. "It's not your fault. God, is it not your fault, Kenshin. For once, _it's not your fault_. It's all right. I've got you now. We're going to get you home."

"Hhh…home," Kenshin murmured, his unbandaged hand gripping Sano's jacket. "Sano?" he said again, a hesitation, a desperate question in his tearful voice.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. I'm here, Kenshin. Shh, I got you now. It'll be all right now."


	16. Furies

16  
Furies

Whoever had done the carvings was a great artist.

Yahiko found his eyes drawn to the smallest details. The murals were elegant in their way, but somehow he felt dirty to be admiring them.

He was only trying to keep he thoughts off Kaoru, and what she had done.

He mentally shook himself. It wasn't as if she'd killed anyone on anything. He looked at her, dozing with her head on her knees beside him.

No, she hadn't killed anyone. But she had _scared _him.

When she had fallen thought the fireplace, there was only a few minutes of indecision. Questions, spoken aloud or not, were asked. Should they all drop down after her, since this was obviously a way in? Should someone be left behind in case there wasn't a way back up?

Sano wasn't willing to leave her down there alone for more than a few moments, and jumped in before anything else could be decided.

Yahiko didn't take long following suit. After all, if there was a way in, there had to be way out. Somehow they came and went from here.

Their first fright, after getting out of the cold, dark water, was that she was nowhere to be seen. Then, following the only visible tunnel, they suddenly found themselves in a very close-quarters fight.

Sano was taking most of it, and made progress by grabbing the man in front of him and throwing him back on the ones trying to pour in. Eventually the ones in the back were getting the idea of the danger and were trying to back up before they all fell over each other and got crushed.

Swords were drawn, fighting stances taken. Something to do, _finally_.

That was, until they stepped into a huge, lighted cavern and laid their eyes on Kaoru.

Yahiko hadn't had as much opportunity to see even Kenshin fighting multiple opponents at once. The best fights of Kenshin's he'd been witness to had been one-on-one.

For several still and shocked moments, Yahiko could only stare. He recognized the movements of his own sword style, of course, but the way that she used them--!

The fighters were untrained, just swinging their weapons like clubs, whether they were really clubs or not. Kaoru whirled and weaved, knocking weapons aside, bringing the bokken down on unprotected heads, against open stomachs or across unguarded shins.

She ducked a clumsy swipe by real sword, smashed the fellow in the face, left foot stepping out in a fluid movement that allowed her to take the next closest opponent with the point in his stomach. The next advance got another in the throat.

Teeth bared when she wasn't screaming hoarse non-words. Eyes vacant. In a rage, one was supposed to fight wildly, without form. But her engagements were nearly flawless. The best he had ever seen from her.

A crazy thought had gone through Yahiko's mind: when he saw Kenshin again, he wanted to ask, "Is there a little bit of Battousai in all of us?" If there was, he saw it now in his teacher.

If there was, would _he _ever touch his? Would he ever reach his breaking point, or, perhaps, even a point of no return?

What had been happened? What had been said to set her off like this?

Kenshin! Was Kenshin all right?

All of this, observations, thoughts, only took seconds, before Yahiko had to focus his attention on his own battles or risk losing teeth.

The four of them fanned out a bit, trying to get closer to Kaoru, especially when a large man got too close and she pulverized her weapon on his shoulder. He went down, but that didn't stop her from using the hilt, flat on the heels of her hands, to snap his head up at his chin.

Somehow she knew about someone coming up behind her, whirled, and performed the same move on him.

Sano reached her side first, face pinched and worried. Yahiko noticed how he was careful not to get too close. Kaoru didn't look like she might recognize friend from foe.

_One enemy at a time. _Yahiko ducked the club that came at him. The man wide-open, he used his foot to trip him, blocked the staff of the one coming at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aoshi dispatching his own opposition almost lazily. Misao's attention kept straying to Kaoru, her face pale and not employing her usual zealous acrobatics or banter.

Was Kenshin all right? Was he?

The fight thinned out, a dozen men went down by the sword or the first. Anyone else retreated, not having expected such resistance. Maybe the terrifying warrior Kaoru had unexpectedly become had unnerved them.

She went down on her knees. Suddenly. She hadn't been hit, or at least, she hadn't seemed to be. Maybe she had taken one before they had shown up, and only just now felt it.

Yahiko ran to her then, sliding a few inches on his knees as he came down in front of her. Her face was still cold fury, eyes still blank, and he reached out hesitantly and touched her arms. She didn't attack him, but she didn't notice him either.

He began trying to wake her. It took several minutes of him calling to her before she finally blinked, eyes clearing, and answered him.

He closed his eyes, leaning against the cool stone of the wall. In his mind, he knew he should be keeping watch, but he had a feeling that when it was this dark, his hearing might serve him better than his eyes anyway. So he kept his ears tuned for footfalls echoing in one of the tunnels and tried to relax his body. Resting while he could. Who knew if there would be more fighting soon?

Kenshin wasn't dead. At least, not that they knew of.

They just hadn't found him yet. But they would.

Kaoru was…so upset. Had been upset to tears when she told them of Tan and Hikaru's reasons for taking Kenshin from them in the first place.

For, essentially, nothing. For something that didn't even really have anything to do with the Bakumatsu, or, for that matter, with Kenshin himself.

No matter how many times it was said or thought, it was still as impactfully unbelievable as though hearing it for the first time.

Yahiko heard movement and saw Misao moving closer to him. "Hey…" she said, the look on her face suggesting she was going to say something he may not want to hear. "You know, those guys…that Tan and Hikaru? They got busted up jumping off high places, trying to fly…"

She trailed off, like she was hoping he'd get her point.

He didn't, only giving her a few, confused blinks.

She pursed her lips, not annoyed, just not wanting to say something that might be too hard to say. "You don't think we'll have to deal with anything like that with Himura when we get him back, do you?"

This was _not _something he had thought of, and the idea sent a shiver through his very blood.

Still, he took a deep breath. His resolve held firm. First, Kenshin. Kenshin's life. Kenshin's safety. Then feel. Then react. Then fight, bawl, or scream, or whatever impulse came to him first. Only then. Only when there was a single moment when he was sure that Kenshin and the others didn't need his strength.

"We'll deal with that when there's something to deal with," he said, voice firm. "We _are _talking about Kenshin. He won't let something like this bring him down."

* * *

Trying his hardest to ignore an annoying muscle jumping in his throat, Sano swallowed many times as he examined the damage that had been done to his friend's hand.

Thank God for Megumi, whose magic had still somehow managed to reach and be a comfort to Kenshin. Maybe that's why he didn't have infection from his fingertips to his elbow right now.

He cleaned, medicated, and wrapped Kenshin's hand, using some of his own bandaging, which was cleaner than what the old couple had been using. He'd wanted to talk to the disoriented rurouni a little more, but that damn tightness in his throat prevented him from making more than a few soothing noises in his cheeks when Kenshin flinched at his handling.

"K-Ka-o-ru?" Kenshin whispered, eyes narrowed with more concentration that one should ever have to use when simply speaking. "Ya-Yahiko?"

Sano licked dry lips before answering. "They're fine," he said, knowing that's what Kenshin would want to know first.

The redhead closed his eyes in relief.

_The string_, Sano suddenly remembered. Finished with Kenshin's wound, Sano got up and started to walk to where he'd left it at the mouth of the lower tunnel. He couldn't just leave that lying around. If it got lost or stolen or something, he'd never find his way back to--

There was a warning cry from the old lady and a crash behind him. He barely spun around in time to catch Kenshin as he tackled him. Thin arms around him in a stranglehold, Sano brought his tapped arms up to Kenshin's bare back, bewildered and no little bit alarmed.

The lucidity Kenshin had shown when asking about Kaoru and Yahiko was completely gone, replaced by stark terror and confusion so extreme that it was actually painful to look at him.

"Kenshin!" Sano said, too sharply, making Kenshin flinch and lower his head. Instantly filled with remorse, Sano clumsily patted at Kenshin back. Lowering his voice, he tried again, "It's okay, it's okay. I'm not going to leave you. Are you crazy? After all I went through to find you?"

Kenshin didn't respond other than to tighten his arms. He didn't understand.

Staring at his bowed head through hot, dry eyes, Sanosuke felt his throat obstructed again. He felt mute and suffocated. Tears were too shambly, and he would allow none. But this was almost harder to deal with than if he'd come here to find that Kenshin had died.

His friend had a beautiful mind. It was probably full of warring things, of the sword and destruction, but it was also full of thoughts that were soft and protective. Kenshin could impart himself in both word and expression like no one else Sano had ever known.

To see him now, stripped of that great power of mind, it was painful to see. It hurt more than anything Sano could remember.

"I'll kill them," he whispered.

Kenshin looked up. Then he smiled, throwing Sano off-guard with the sudden change in expression. "_No_, Sano," he said. Clearly. No stammering, correct on the first try.

Sanosuke stared at him a moment, his chest heaving a either an urge to laugh or certain other, unmanly noises he simply would not allow. Even like this, Kenshin still…

He was going to be all right!

Sano took a deep breath, hope spreading through him. He hadn't actually thought the words, but the fear had been there, that this was permanent, that Kenshin might be like…like _this _for the rest of his life.

"You're still in there," he breathed.

But Kenshin wouldn't be thrown off his current train of thought just for Sano's relief. Eyes narrowing with impatience, he reached out with his good hand and gave his taller friend's forelock a tug. "_Sano_."

"What? Oh. Yeah, yeah, I won't kill anybody."

Satisfied, the redhead let go and backed up a bit, forehead furrowing in a way that suggested he wasn't certain why he had been standing so close in the first place.

Still looking confused, Kenshin turned to see Aijo and Daisuke, who stood together, both of them looking almost as lost as he did, then turned back to Sano.

"Let me guess," Sano said, a little dryly. "You want to bring them along?"

Kenshin nodded.

"Fine," he said simply. Sanosuke was a little angry with the old man and woman for hiding Kenshin, but he did know that they were also trying to protect and take care of him while he was the weakest Sano had ever seen him…so the least he could do would be to bring them out of this hell too.

Sano watched Kenshin as some quick introductions were made, watching the rurouni's eyes change as he tried to stay focused.

The old woman looked, stunned, at her husband. "I can't believe we turned his Kaoru-dono away!"

Daisuke shifted guiltily. "Yeah, well…it's all right now. This young man has come to bring him back home."

"I'll get you out too," Sano promised, easing away the last of his grudge. "Unless you want to stay for some reason?"

"No!" they said quickly, at the same time.

* * *

Their going was slow. Kenshin was too enervated to go the distance. He wanted to walk on his own at first, but soon he was nestled onto Sano's back, his breathing heavy in deep sleep. Aijo and Daisuke shuffled along slowly, with Aijo carefully rolling the ball of spring back together as they walked.

Sano was desperately trying to think of a way he could explain Kenshin's condition to the others. Of course they knew something would be wrong with him…but to see it…

It was difficult to wrap the mind around, difficult to know what to say or do.

He winced when he imagined just bringing Kenshin in, thought of how fragile he was right now, and how it would overwhelm him when everyone ran to him at once without giving him a chance to recognize them first, asking their questions, trying to touch him, and then seeing what had been done to him as a result of the Mindsifter, he didn't know how Kenshin might take their anger. Sano still wasn't sure Kenshin understood everything said to him. Couldn't stand seeing the frustration on his friends face as he tried to communicate with his broken speech, unable to remember the words he wanted to use.

And Kenshin still didn't want him killing anyone.

"Is he getting heavy, Son? I know I have a few years on me now, but I wouldn't mind taking him a little ways," Daisuke offered.

Sano's hands, under Kenshin's knees, tightened a little. "No, he's not heavy. Kenshin's never heavy."

That taken either as it was or how Sano meant it, Kenshin _wasn't _heavy, not even while he was sleeping. As if there wasn't enough to deal with, the girls were going to have to work on getting some meat back on his bones when they got back.

The oldsters didn't speak much, and Sano was too preoccupied for conversation. He decided he would leave Kenshin with Daisuke and Aijo a little around the bend where his friends were resting, and then take them all aside to explain that he'd found Kenshin, and for them to be more gentle than usual when they saw him.

"How is Jou-chan going to take this?" he moaned quietly. The last time he saw her, Kaoru wasn't looking all that stronger than Kenshin did at the moment.

"Ka'ru?" Kenshin murmured sleepily.

"It's nothing, Kenshin. You can go back to sleep," Sano offered.

But he only felt Kenshin stiffen on his back. His right hand tightened on his shoulder. "Sano…?"

"What's wrong, Kenshin?"

"I-is, Ka'ru-d-dono…?"

"Yeah, she's here. We're going to see her right now--"

Sanosuke stopped walking when Kenshin suddenly began to struggle, trying to get down. Confused, Sano let him, then had to lunge to catch him when he tried to dash back down he tunnel from where they had come--

"Kenshin!" He grabbed his arms, as Kenshin struggled wildly, trying to get away. "What are you doing! What's wrong--"

"Kenshin-chan!" Aijo was there, her wrinkled hands grabbing Kenshin on either side of his face. "Kenshin, listen to-- Kenshin, listen!" she ordered firmly.

To Sano's surprise, he stopped struggling, only stood there breathing hard through clenched teeth.

Aijo's face softened as she held Kenshin's still between her hands. "Kenshin-chan, Kaoru won't be angry with you. Do you hear? She won't be mad at _you_. She's worked so hard to come and get you back. You can't run and hide from her now. Think of how sad she'll be."

He lowered his head, shoulders shaking. "But…b-but…not l-like this." He lifted his hands, one fine and one bandaged and let them fall. "Her eyes…be d-different." He looked up then, looking to Sano for understanding. "D-different eyes, S-Sano."

Sanosuke took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. Then he knelt down carefully so that Kenshin was looking down into his face for once.

"Buddy, when I'm looking at you now, are my eyes different?" he said slowly.

Sano kept his eyes open and steady and on Kenshin's for a long moment before the rurouni shook his head.

He stood up again, gave Kenshin's shoulder a squeeze. "Okay? We've tried to hard to get you back, and now we do. Please, _please _don't go away again."

Kenshin fidgeted, looking rather ashamed of himself. "I'm s-sorry, Sano."

"It's all right. We need you, Buddy, and you won't be leaving us again. You understand me?"

Kenshin nodded slowly. "I understand, Sano."

Again, he didn't stammer.

* * *

At first, Aoshi wasn't sure if he should react as a low, rumbling beat suddenly sounded from one of the largest tunnels, a distant quick roll of sound that made the ground vibrate slightly. Was that real?

He looked to the others, watched them get to their feet, their eyes on the large tunnel, the one where Sano had disappeared.

"What was that?" Misao demanded.

No one had an answer.

* * *

Sano stopped, grasping Kenshin protectively, eyes trained on the darkness ahead. The torch Daisuke was holding was not strong enough to burn away the darkness for than a few feet.

"That came in the direction we're going," Daisuke said, a little unnecessarily. "Is it something your friends are doing?"

Sano had no idea, but he didn't think so.

"That's not an earthquake," Misao said.

"It sounds kind of like someone beating on a drum," Yahiko murmured.

Another beat sounded, a greater tremor beneath their shoes. This time, a low whistle accompanied the sound.

Kaoru clutched the end of the string that led straight into the noise.

Sano had taken the string again, intending to roll it back up as he walked along, keeping the others behind him. But instead of the light pressure he expected to feel on the line, it came freely, sliding slack into his hands as he reeled it in, winding it around his hand.

His eyes widened as he found the reason for there to be no resistance on the string. Aijo's hand raised to her mouth as he held up the frayed end of the string, which was damp and looked like it had been savaged, chewed through.

Sano sucked in his breath sharply. "Not good."

* * *

The echoing pulses of sound kept coming, closer and closer, causing the walls to shake and stalactites to crack and fall, showering the cavern with chunks of rocks that danced along the floor with every beat of the drumming noise.

"Sanosuke!" Kaoru shouted, knuckles white where she clutched the string.

Yahiko snagged her arm, yanking her back away from the tunnel. "Kaoru, something's coming!"

The whistle was becoming more and more high pitched as it approached, and it was sounding more like shriek than a controlled sound, a eerie accompaniment to the pounding drum. The cavern was shaking constantly now, and it became clear that something was definitely coming.

It was coming fast.

It was almost there.

* * *

"Are they loose?" Hikaru demanded cheerfully as Oaka, pale-faced and sweating, squeezed his way into the little food-store fissure where his employer had temporarily taken up residence.

"Yes, Sir, but how will we catch them again? And what about Hoshi?"

Hikaru waved a hand dismissively. "Hoshi can look after herself. As for how we're to catch them again, and so I can get this situation back under my control, I'll have to have you go to the surface for something."

"Sir?"

"My cousin took the Shortsifter with him. I need you to recover it, Oaka."

The enforcer nodded quickly. "Yes, Hikaru-sama." Having the Shortsifter again would make things considerably easier.

Hikaru rubbed his hands together absently. "Careless of us to let him take it. But he's _always _had it. Guess it didn't seem right they should be parted, in the end."

"What if I can't find it?"

He reclined back in his wheelchair, grinning cheerfully. "Well, then, my friend, I suppose that it would be safe to say that we're in trouble."


	17. Arrivings

17  
Arrivings

Kenshin came to himself very suddenly, came to register that he was on his stomach with his eyes squeezed shut and shouting his head off. His right hand was clenched around something, and he could feel Sano's weight pressed on top of him, hugging him tightly.

He knew it was Sano because he could hear him begging quietly in his ear, "Kenshin, it's me. It's okay, it's me, it's only me. Nobody can hurt you anymore. Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, Kenshin. Please, it's just me. It's Sano. I…I'll protect you, Kenshin, I swear…I swear…"

It was the increasing shakiness to Sano's voice that broke through Kenshin's panicked haze. He quieted. He thought for a moment he was shaking, but then he realized it was Sano instead. They were lying on the cold ground, which was no longer quaking and rumbling. And Sano was upset, but why? Kenshin couldn't remember why he had been upset himself.

Then, with a jolt, he recalled. This was his fault.

When the ground had still been shaking, Kenshin held out his hand toward it, but of course it didn't stop. He hadn't really expected it to.

He remembered he was afraid, but it was a tangled sort of fear. It didn't seem like trembling ground could hurt him. No, that's right. He wasn't afraid for himself.

His features scrunched as he struggled to think. Sano and Aijo and Daisuke had been talking. They had sounded troubled, and it distracted him. The tendrils of thought he tried to grasp eluded him. He hissed out his breath in frustration.

Then it hit him. Hard as one of his master's _Ryutsuisen_.

"Kaoru!" he'd shouted, drawing the attention of his three friends. He smacked his right hand to his left side, but of course the sword wasn't there. He hadn't expected that either, and yet he had the constant need to double-check everything. Everything. Sometimes it seemed like he could feel the warm cloth of a gi on his shoulders, but when he brought up a hand to feel, there would be nothing. Maybe his sakabato was likely there as not in the same way.

But confirming that it really wasn't, for now, he looked around quickly, spied his old stick still held by Daisuke. He darted for it, snatched it from the old man in a greedy sort of way. No connection was made for the guilt he might have felt for his action, or the simple courtesy it would have taken for asking; he had only known that he had used this stick before and needed it now. Kaoru was in danger. As was Yahiko.

Then he whirled and started to run in the direction of the noise. Voices had called his name from behind him, but none of them were Kaoru's so they couldn't possibly be--

Then someone tackled him. The unexpectedness of it, and the pain that went through his injured left arm broke Kenshin's fragile hold on reality. His mind went back to the darkness. Big Hands that grabbed him, held him down, that twisted and hurt. Searching him for things he didn't have. Asking him questions he didn't understand. Wanting things he _could not give_.

Overcome with terror, he fought like always, screaming until his throat began to hurt. His hand with the stick was trapped under him, and the other one hurt so much.

But it was Sano. Sano was trying to stop him from running off.

Abruptly, Kenshin felt himself being flipped over, and was staring up into Sano's face. To his great dismay, he saw Sano's eyes were very wet. Filled with moisture. Nothing that would spill, but more than enough to show just how hard this was on him. Shame flushed through Kenshin, and he felt a prickling in his own eyes.

But Sanosuke mistook the tears, and his eyes widened with distress. "No, Kenshin, don't. It's _me_, see?" he pleaded desperately.

Kenshin quickly reached out to pat his arm, to show that he understood now and hoping to comfort his friend after having upset him so. "Y-yes. Yes, I s-see you, Sano. I-I'm so s-sorry."

"No, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped on you like that. I know you just wanted to get to the others. I just couldn't risk losing you again." He raked his hand through his hair, let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Kenshin bit his lip, wondering what he could say to make it a little more better. Then he remembered something Sano had said a moment ago. Something that, despite the warm feelings it gave him inside, still made him smile with the amusement of it. "Y…y-you will p-protect me, Sano?"

A little stripe of red appeared over Sano's nose and cheeks, but he still set his jaw and nodded in all seriousness. "You're damn right I will. I don't know what all they did to you--but they won't be doing it again. To you, to anyone. Ever."

And Kenshin believed him. He believed this more than he had ever believed anything Sano had ever said, but still, it was just…funny. So he kept grinning until Sano grinned back.

"Oh, shut up, Kenshin," was Sano's best, muttered response. Still grinning, he stood and held out his hand to help Kenshin stand.

On his feet again, Kenshin glanced at Aijo and Daisuke. Daisuke looked a bit blank, but Aijo's eyes were twinkling. "Well, aren't you two cute? Just like brothers."

Kenshin smiled, and Sano, embarrassed, rubbed the back of his head.

Kenshin looked at the ground again. It was behaving itself now, but that didn't mean the danger had passed. He swung his eyes to Sano and, before he could think about the words he needed before he said them, blurted, "I need Kaoru."

Sano blinked at him, and Kenshin blinked back. He'd meant to say, "I need to _see _Kaoru." He thought it strange how accidentally missing one word could make a sentence so different. But as he thought on it, he supposed that one statement was just as truthful as the other. He still fidgeted a little under the small, slow smile that spread slightly over Sano's face.

"I know." Sano glanced back down the tunnel, biting the corner of his mouth. "Damn it," he muttered. "What the hell is out there? We need to find the other end of the string…"

* * *

They took it maddeningly slow. Sanosuke had consigned Kenshin to Aijo, thrusting the rurouni's good hand into the old woman's. "Just keep an eye on him," he said firmly, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "I can't go through that again."

He really couldn't. For one instant, Kenshin had seemed very much himself, from the flash in his eyes to the way he gripped that stick to the way he was suddenly running through the tunnel. Sano had almost not been able to catch him, but when he had, the reaction had been terrible, especially when they fell.

Nothing Kenshin said made sense, but he did keep saying one word over and over. "Don't!"

It was the way he said it, the pale, haunting tone of defeat without hope for mercy that unsettled Sano so, that had him clinging to his friend tightly and desperately asking him to come back to the present.

Anger, a saving grace, soothing with familiarity, was slower to come than normal, but it did as he moved among carefully, sure Kenshin was being looked after by the old couple, he held the torch low and began to anxiously search for the string. At one point, the idea came to him to ask the oldsters if they knew where the rainbow room was, but they were only familiar with the passageways around their home.

He _had _to find that string. He couldn't find his way back without it.

Then the drums began again. Sano grabbed at the old man, pushed him and Aijo and Kenshin against the wall as the violent pounding and shaking began again.

_Damndamndamndamn--_

Chucks of rock were loosed from the shadows of the ceiling. They were in a bad place. He swallowed hard, thinking of the others. He worried about cave-ins that could separate them. He was near-desperate to get Kenshin to Kaoru, but more than that, he needed to get to them himself. Needed to be sure they weren't fighting whatever was making that terrible pounding sound, weren't needing his help. It was regular, like a heartbeat, beating in time with his own heart. It was disconcerting, and that might have been the point.

He felt like the walls of the tunnel were moving in on him and tried to shove the thoughts away. He thought once, that he might close his eyes to steady himself, but if he had he might have missed when Kenshin shoved off the wall and "attacked" a chunk of falling rubble coming toward them.

"Hohh_hhh_!" he shouted raspily as he leapt upward, the stick held horizontal above his head, as he batted the rock-chunk aside, using the back of his injured hand against the stick for more power.

He landed badly, though, and would have fallen had Sano not shot forward and grabbed him about the waist, pulling him back. "Well, it figures you wouldn't have forgotten how to do _that_," he said, extraordinarily happy with that fact until Kenshin made a soft, pained noise. He probably reinjured his band with that stunt. Sano swore viciously, and pulling Kenshin tightly against himself, he held him still while he kept a careful watching on the shadows the led the ceiling, determined to deal with any debris falling toward them himself next time.

Nothing more came too close to them, and then the drums finally stopped.

Sano waited only a moment after the silence to make certain all was still before he grasped Kenshin's shoulders and turned him around to check on him. His face was all right, only a few pain-tears in his eyes. But he didn't look distressed. The bandage, though, was crimson with blood. "You okay, Kenshin?"

Kenshin nodded, then closed his eyes and smiled, cocking his head to one side. The expression was so normal that Sano was grinning as he unwound the blood-soaked wrappings. A day ago, he'd have given anything to see that silly rurouni smile that was given to him so freely now. And Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu was still with Kenshin. He supposed nothing could make him forget how to fight.

Yes, things would be all right. If he could just get to Kaoru and the others, and get the hell out of this labyrinth and back into the fresh air, everything would be fine.

* * *

It had been raining over the islands, and looked it might rain more. Clouds were fat and threatening in the sky. There was a bone-deep chill in the air. But still, it smelled sweet, though not as sweet as his mountain would have.

To keep himself sane, Hiko was entertaining himself with fond, pleasant, positive thoughts. The cheerful images drowned out the Shrew's tongue and cheered him up mightily. First they had been fairly mundane, just memories of him knocking Kenshin around in the early, inept days of his training. Then they got more elaborate. His favorite so far was of a nice wooden pole driven right into a large, sandy hill of angry red ants. Kenshin would be tied to it, of course. Just as Hiko was imagining it might be good incentive for those ants to pour honey over his apprentice, the Shrew grabbed his arm and pointed at a produce stand.

He felt a vein throb in his head as he followed the line of one of her long-nailed finger, but then his irritation melted as he spied the posting nailed onto one of the supports of the stand.

It was Kenshin.

He ignored what she said next, hurrying over the produce stand to make certain. Not that it would be easy to make a mistake.

It was him all right. Talented hands had taken care with every detail. Hands that had known of the situation, if Hiko was one to judge. Kenshin stood in a relaxed stance, face peaceful, but his eyes were wide and seemed…lost. His sword was missing from his side. A heartfelt message was scrawled in the margins by hands less capable than the one that had done the drawing. But the words more than made up for the form, pleading for any information and leaving the name of an inn where it could be brought to.

"Must have been done by Tsunan," Megumi murmured when she reached his side.

Hiko didn't know, or care, who Tsunan was, but at least this confirmed that Kenshin's friends had indeed been this way.

The paper of the notice wasn't old, either. It looked to have been rained on a few times, but it wasn't weathered. So where the hell were they now? They weren't still at that miserably crowded inn, he knew, because he had not only already asked after them, but he had spent a restless night there at the damn shrew's insistence. Hiko still wasn't sure how she had even managed to get herself invited along.

He'd just wanted information. That's all. Okina didn't have much more to offer than the letter had stated, precisely because the letter was the only way he had any information at all--but it had been worth a check. It hadn't been worth a slight twinkle in the old man's eye, though, whatever that was supposed to mean. It irritated him.

As did the woman when he traveled all the way to Tokyo. He wished he hadn't had to now, but it had been important. Izu Archipelago, fine, but _which _island of it? Then she'd latched herself onto the opportunity to go looking for Kenshin, and he had to wonder exactly why she hadn't gone with the others in the first place instead of slowing him down now?

Why was he even bringing her along again? For one thing, she wouldn't take no for an answer. For another, he didn't like that look in her eye the first couple of times he'd tried to get her to stay put. That look an especially hot-blooded woman would get when she was about to express her wrath by way of scratching and clawing. Maybe there was also a measure of sympathy. It was hard to miss the haggard appearance of one who obviously didn't sleep well at night, the pinched eyes and mouth of someone who had gone overlong worrying.

Or perhaps it was even because Hiko clearly remembered, in Kyoto, she had come to look after Kenshin's injuries. The boy had been hurt quite badly, but she had fought his death at every turn with more cussedness, tenacity, determination, grit, and pure stubbornness than any other doctor in the world would have been able to achieve. If Kenshin was sick or injured or starved or tortured, she was definitely one to bring along, if he absolutely had to bring anyone at all.

And he had just spend the last couple of weeks regretting it.

She didn't exactly chatter a lot, but when she did, it was in a thin-patience, no-nonsense way. And she asked too many questions. He wondered, only briefly, why _she _wasn't with the others looking for Kenshin, but he had minded his own business in the matter. So why couldn't she do the same? Why did she want to know so badly why he had left the mountain to go looking for his missing apprentice now?

He had seemed to refuse to answer, but even if he was inclined to tell her anything, he didn't really have a reason to give. What was he supposed to say? That he wanted Kenshin to ask him a question?

That was just…silly.

Kenshin would pay for this. Oh, yes. Once Hiko had made certain he was all right, he was going to kill him. Ants. Yes, lots of red-hot-angry, well-stirred up ants. He had to remember to buy or find some honey when this was over.


	18. A Simple Pattern

18  
A Simple Pattern

Aoshi stood in the front, but only because the others had for some reason drifted behind him.

He suddenly, almost, felt like laughing. None of this could possibly be real. At first, his belief in that--that it wasn't real--kept away any fear or revulsion that he might have felt as the first few of them poured into their cavern.

They had the heads of bovine. Tongues lolling, eyes rolling and wild and shiny. Huge people, some easily the size and girth of Hyottoko. They had drums. Lots of them, most of the smaller ones carrying the heavy-hide instruments strapped around their waists. The bigger ones carried hammers of cracked stone. Every few drum beats, in the same sync as galley-rowers, they whirled out and slammed those huge mallets into the walls of the tunnel.

Beautifully orchestrated. Well-disciplined. Absolutely could not be real.

But Misao was real. She latched onto his arm, talking. The noise kept her words from him. If there weren't people with bull-heads pouring into the room, it was _something _that unsettled her, that caused the sweat to run down her face, that made her eyes wide and wild and round.

He tried to force his mind into coolness, tried to take stock of the situation. Unknown number of enemy. One ally missing. Two if Himura Kenshin was to be counted. The Other Girl and the boy--for God's sake, _what _were their names?--had drifted to his left side and back as the minotaurs began to surround them. Other Girl was weaponless and would have to be protected.

The boy's voice was high-pitched as he shouted something to the Other Girl. Sanosuke was mentioned several times. They were afraid. Why shouldn't they be afraid? Three dozen were in the cavern already. More coming. The ones who had beaten the wall before held their hammers before them, and still from somewhere far back, the labyrinth still shook from the force of others.

Aoshi tightened his hands on his kodachi. He squeezed his eyes shut, opened them again quickly. It was still there, just as he saw it. _Was _it real?

* * *

Oaka was covered in dirt and his hands were slick with sweat as he stood by the opened lid of Tan's grave. The Shortsifter wasn't on him. He dug through his former master's clothing, tore apart the feathery wings that some sentimental fool had buried along with him, but there was no sign of it. Not one crystal or bit of glass, not one strand or string. It was gone.

* * *

_Hold it at the top. Never look directly at it. Pin your fingers over the top two strings, skip the third, and hold the forth…_

Aoshi's stomach clenched, and cold sweat ran down his back. Misao and the boy were distracting him, shouting at each other in their high voices. Misao was fairly bristling with kunai as the creatures continued to fill the room. He couldn't see what that other girl was doing, but could feel her nearby enough, had a strong feeling the boy would never let her out of his sight anyway.

_Hold the top. Never look directly at it._

Aoshi closed his eyes, blocked out the terrible sounds and smells of the insane forms before him.

_Hold the top…_

The top… Aoshi reached into his coat, felt the hardness of rocks nestled within. His fingers slid in further, seeking a clump of strings grouped together. That would be the top.

_Never look directly at it._

He had learned his lesson well the first time. He tugged, and it all came tumbling out in cascade of chimes. The sunlight was gone, didn't shatter through the crystals, but the torchlight was still burning nearby.

_Pin your fingers over the top two strings…_

The strings at the top of the Shortsifter were knotted together in zig-zagging patterns. Aoshi pressed hard on the top two.

…_skip the third, and hold the forth. This is one of the simplest Patterns, the Pattern that brings Stillness through sight._

Aoshi third finger brushed over the third string, then pinned down the forth. Pattern completed, he swung the Shortsifter up, the crystals singing, torchlight bounding off, his eyes on the ground…

…and everything went still.

There were noises in the back, of the ones who couldn't see the Shortsifter and its Pattern, but they couldn't get in for the bodies blocking the way. Aoshi bit down on his tongue as his eyes scanned around the cow-headed people, still as figures carved of stone. He glanced back at his comrades and saw that only Kaoru--he belatedly remembered her name--was staring at him with movement, a fist pressed against her mouth and a mix of many emotions in her eyes. She had been standing behind him, hadn't been in a position to see the Shortsifter. But the boy and Misao were as still as the monsters.

Aoshi ground his molars together.

Now what?

* * *

Oaka barreled dangerously through the little village pathways. In truth, he was in a panic. With no Shortsifter to take back to Hikaru, there was no way of driving the monster tribe back into its designated tunnel ways where they'd been sealed for generations. There simply wasn't the manpower to do it by force.

Who had stolen the it? The island was small. If he asked questions well enough, people would talk. Maybe it would even turn up in a vendor's stall? He hoped it wasn't given to a child as a toy or someone wouldn't figure out some of the things it could do. Without knowledge of how to form Patterns, the thing was pretty useless, but…accidents could always happen.

He stopped just short of a small inn, blinkingly rapidly as he came face to face with a sharply-done ink painting of none other than the very man who had made this mess: Himura Battousai.

So his friends had put up flyers while they were looking for him. Oaka stared at the image for a few skipping seconds before snarling angrily and ripping the poster down. He tore it into ragged halves, and the fourths before throwing the pieces down and grounding them under his sandals. Damn him. If no other good came of all this, then at least he could imagine the bull people would take care of him. Maybe take care of Hikaru too, tear the Mindsifter from its ropes and hooks in the stone ceiling, collapse the tunnels, and the endless nightmare would be no more.

Feeling only vaguely satisfied, Oaka turned around and nearly ran into a man as broad as himself, but nearly half a head taller. Blinking in surprise, he took a step back, unnerved a little by the elaborate cloak draped about the man and even more by the narrowed eyes and the piercing glare that moved over the healing bruises still on Oaka's face.

"I don't think," the man said in very clipped tones, "that I would be mistaken if I guessed you've met my stupid apprentice." His eyes moved from Oaka's face to the destroyed flyer on the ground, then back again. "And recently, too, I should think. I wonder if you might tell me where you saw him."

* * *

"Come on, Kenshin."

"Nkk…Sano--"

"No, don't point at it. I want you to say it to me. _Ask _me for it."

"U-um--"

"No, Kenshin, don't say 'um,' and don't stutter. Say it right. I know you can do it."

"Mn…"

"Kenshin, Buddy, listen to me. Don't get upset, okay? I'm not mad at you, and I'm not doing this to be mean. I just… You understand that, right? Kenshin?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"…yes…"

"Kenshin, what did you just say yes to?"

"…Yes, I u-understand."

"Understand what?"

"You're n-not mean, Sano."

"…no. No, I am mean, I-I'm just not doing this to _be _mean."

"Mmn…"

"Yeah…you know what, that was good. That was good. It's okay, you can have your stick back. Sorry, I…I shouldn't have… Never mind. Here you go. … …Kenshin? Don't you want it?"

"S-sano. Sano. M-may I…may I…hh…have it…back? Sano, m-may I-- Sano, may I have it b-back? _Sano, may I have it back_?"

"Kenshin--"

"I'm s-sorry, Sano. I…I try--"

"No! No, Kenshin, that was great. That was just great. You did really good. Okay? It'll get better. You're doing better all the time. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Do you want your stick back now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go."


	19. Can't Stop Me

19  
Can't Stop Me

Aoshi and Kaoru were able to make a path through the bull-people by pushing, pulling, or dragging some of the smallest ones out of the way, but it was slow and tiring work that was looking futile until they found an off-tunnel not blocked off by bodies. There was no way to tell where it could lead, but they didn't have many choices.

Kaoru, swallowing ripples of fear and revulsion, had examined one of the shorter men and thus found that the bull-heads were actually masks. Touching he mask itself made her skin crawl, because the bristles of fur beneath her fingers was also met by the sickening give of flesh. It was real. It had really been taken off the head of a bull. Down here, how and from where, she didn't know, and the thought was driven out of her mind before it could be truly explored by the fright that lay beneath the mask.

She didn't know if they all looked like this man, with his head so scourged that only a few clumps of hair grew in the few untouched spots, and one eye that looked to have been clawed out of his face, but she didn't want to find out. She had dropped the mask by his side and left him as he was. She didn't look beneath any other masks. It was enough to know that minotaurs didn't really exist.

A way out cleared among the false mythical monsters, Aoshi carried Misao through, hefting her with one hand over his shoulder gripping the back of her uniform, so that she dangled behind him with her back against his. Kaoru dragged Yahiko along similarly, only holding him by his wrists over her shoulders. She didn't like the way his body felt, his muscles tense, stiff, rigid, not relaxed or limp like an unconscious person would be.

"Why didn't you tell us?" she said to Aoshi. She wasn't certain if it she should be angry or not. She was too tired for that anyway, but she still wanted to know why. Why keep it a secret that that boy, that Penna Tan, had given him the fearsome device and had shown him a few tricks?

Aoshi was silent for a long moment, the both of them carrying their burdens through the low darkness, lit up ahead by the torch Aoshi held in his free hand. After several flat, muted footsteps, Aoshi answered, biting off each word. "I forgot it."

"You _forgot_?" Kaoru echoed incredulously, nearly dropping Yahiko.

But now, as she thought about it…back at the dojo. "You're Misao, right?" he'd asked, and blamed his confusion on the darkness. How strangely he'd begun to act when they had gotten to Izu, how he stood on the beach, spacing out. He had been tracking Penna Tan from the dock in Tokyo. And it was Tan who had used the--

Then it hit her. Oh. _No._

"Aoshi, _why didn't you tell us_?" she nearly shouted. The same words from before, but referring to something else entirely.

His steps faltered a little, but he took up the same brisk pace, reticence even radiating from Misao hanging against his back, but Kaoru wasn't having any of it.

"Aoshi--"

He turned around so suddenly she nearly ran into him. He stared at her a moment with his eyes hardened to their fullest extent before he said softly, "We--all of us--already had enough to concern us, did we not, Ka…miya-san?" He turned away again, moving forward and showing no sign of strain with Misao's added weight. "As we do now. The Penna Pattern will wear off, freeing not only Misao and the boy, but also the legion of animal-men we just left behind, but I know not when, and we've lost our lead to Sagara so that now both he _and _Battousai need to be found. And we don't know of the way out. That is enough for now."

Enough, he said. Sounding as if he still had things under control. Kaoru wasn't entirely certain if he was trying to assure her or telling her to frog-off, but maybe he was right that it didn't matter right now. Yahiko had suddenly become very heavy to her, her arms, her own body, as the burdens of _knowing _and _not knowing _began to collide. The two people she had been depending on the most, Sanosuke, lost somewhere in the dark, Aoshi, wounded to an extent he was refusing to reveal by these mind-attacking instruments she still didn't understand. And Kaoru wanted Kenshin, wanted him so suddenly and so badly her knees grew week, her gait unsteady.

But she hardened herself again, bringing her shoulders up. They had overcome a lot. They would overcome this.

_Right…Kenshin?

* * *

_

"He's getting tired."

The information was murmured as Daisuke passed by Sanosuke, the old man trying to seem nonchalant. An attempt to humor the new stubbornness Kenshin had developed.

He _forgot _to be stubborn from time to time, drowsing in and out as the group tried to make their way along in the ever-enclosing darkness. Daisuke's torch was sputtering badly now, soon to become useless, and Sano had been keeping an eye out for some of the caverns that had metal sconces with fresh torches, or at least some not as badly used as the one they had.

He looked back at Kenshin, saw that he was indeed getting very tired. Aijo still had him by the hand, gently tugging him along when his steps faltered, or he seemed to forget they were trying to get to somewhere. He'd started refusing to be carried, and the shame and frustration was so stark on his face when anyone tried to get him to change his mind that Sano was nearly convinced to stop trying. But they couldn't afford to stop every time Kenshin needed to rest; it was simply too often and they were running out of light. If they lost the light, there was no hope of finding the string…

He hesitated, not knowing what to do until Kenshin suddenly went down on one knee, long stick making a loud, hollow sound as it scraped beside him on the stone floor. That was it.

Sanosuke scooped him up quickly before the protests could start, hitching him up to ride piggyback again. Kenshin didn't say anything, just made one soft, hiccupping noise that stabbed into Sano's heart.

"Sorry…sorry," Sano whispered, ignoring sympathetic glances from the old couple. They made him angry, those looks. Those eyes. Damn it. Damn them, damn this labyrinth, everything in it, damn the whole island. "I'll make it up to you, Kenshin. When you get better, you can…you can carry me around for a while," he joked weakly.

But Kenshin laughed anyway, a short little noise that didn't carry past Sano's own hearing, but the sound was uplifting nonetheless.

With Kenshin riding, Sanosuke picked up the pace, trying to outrun the death of their light.

It was hard to judge time here, but he guessed another hour passed. The ground didn't shake, there were no more drums. There were choices to make of which way to go, but they hadn't encountered any other people so far. Not that Sano was certain of the wisdom of asking directions, but he was willing to try anything by now.

He still looked, but he had stopped believing they would find that string.

He also didn't believe he would remember the way back. All the tunnels looked alike, and it was dark besides, soon to be a whole lot darker when the fire finally went out. He felt the fool for it, but right now, his only idea was kind of wandering around hoping he might get lucky.

Yes, he was a fool, but…he didn't know what else to do.

"Maybe we should go back home and rest," Aijo suggested quietly, eyes on Kenshin, drooping on Sano's back.

Sanosuke, not for the first time, resisted the urge to snap at her. He wanted to go home, all right. To Tokyo. "We can't backtrack," he said. "We have to go on. I'm worried about the others."

She hesitated, as if perhaps fearing his temper if she said the wrong thing, then said, "Is it really so important to take Kenshin-chan to Kaoru-san?"

She had addressed the thought behind Sano's words rather than what he had actually said. Of course, he was worried about everyone, but Kaoru had to be all right. She _had _to. Because if she wasn't all right, Kenshin never would be.

"You don't know what they're like," he said, he said, deliberately vague in case Kenshin was still awake enough to hear. "Everything they've ever been through, they've always held on for--and _because of_--each other. They're so tangled up together, so…if we lose one, we'll lose the other. We can't go back. We have to go forward."

He began to walk even faster, setting the pace at maybe more than the old couple could handle, but his thoughts had filled him with urgency. He was still strong. He would carry them all if he had to.

* * *

"Put me down."

The rusty croak came from Yahiko, arms twisting jerkily in Kaoru's hands. She let him go and steadied him as he got his feet under him.

He looked angry, the expression on his face almost of one who had been violated. Kaoru couldn't say that she blamed him. Not one of them wasn't warrior enough to abominate being helpless.

A few minutes later, Misao stirred too. They were a good march from the Mindsifter, not far enough from the minotaurs to make anyone relax. But Misao and Yahiko had been able to hear the things said between Aoshi and Kaoru, just as they had been aware to hear Penna Tan's story and clue from months ago. There was a long silence during which they kept moving in case they would be followed by the mad, scarred bull-men left down the tunnel, but it was a loaded silence.

The words weren't spoken, but they floated around Misao. A question of being forgotten. There were things more frightening, more devastating, more absolute than death, and that was one of them. To be forgotten, especially by someone she, in turn, had refused to forget as years changed her, as she had to know years changed him, without them ever once laying eyes on each other.

It wasn't Aoshi's fault any more than it was Kenshin's fault for any of this, and yet Aoshi walked a little ahead of Misao, strain on his features.

_Are you all right?_

Another question that couldn't be asked, and somehow the sight of his back turned to Misao's face reminded Kaoru a little of the way she had watched Kenshin walk away from Hiko's hut in Kyoto to get water. She was waiting for him to turn around and smile. He didn't. But he faced her later. He smiled later. He would still… And so would--

_BOOM! DOOM! Damndamndamndamn--!_

Those beating drums. No, not drums, but hammers held in the fists of the false minotaurs, crashing against the walls and floors. Optimism cracking, Kaoru clenched teeth over a sob of dismay, pressing back with her friends. She wished she still had a bokken with her. Anything better than her two simple hands…

"Let's go," Aoshi said, voice raised over the horrible din. "Let's hurry."

He sounded so calm, and Kaoru took comfort from it. Whatever might be wrong with him, it couldn't be so bad. They could still count on his strength.

They ran for a while, paced and deliberate, meant to conserve strength while increasing distance. Tunnels were too narrow, and there was the fear of taking a wrong turn and becoming trapped. And even Aoshi couldn't fight forever against an entire army.

Then all there was left to do for now was run and pray…run and pray…

The ceiling began to come down.

How she knew it was happening before it actually did, she would never be able to say. Only that it her hands reaching out to twist in the fabric of Yahiko's gi, a fist gripping Misao's flipping braid, and her panicked shout that stopped Aoshi that kept them from being crushed under the first falling rocks.

"_NO_!" Yahiko denied, his cry one of fury instead of fear. "_DAMN IT! NO_!"

_No_, Kaoru agreed. _It's not fair. Please._ _He needs me. Please._

The constant pounding on the walls…the tunnels here were weak. There hadn't exactly been much time to explore, to examine, but it seemed a small island, much of it submerged in the sea. The walls must have been thinner than they seemed, to create a full-scale warren like the one in the Greek legend. They could collapse whole sections, anyone within could die, the exits could be sealed-- She realized it. Yahiko already knew it.

Couldn't go forward, couldn't go back. No left, no right. _No…_

* * *

If a little dirt and flecks of rocks fell into Hikaru's hair and dusted his shoulders, he didn't seem to notice or care. He sat still in his chair, face relaxed of all his provoking smiles and strained edges of madness.

Oaka wasn't back yet.

Of course Hikaru had considered that they might not find the Shortsifter. Considered it, but had stopped caring so much whether he got it back or not. The maze had to have a minotaur. This maze had many, and they bred and thrived, sealed off in the dark and carefully watched. Their society was violent, without language other than body and emotion. The Mindsifter's most wretched and terrifying work laid out in their minds, passed on to their children. Hikaru himself had added to their numbers from the outside, Grecians only, of course, thinking it a good joke.

He wished now he hadn't cultivated them quite so well, but it was ceasing to matter. At best, maybe they could do what Himura Battousai refused to do. At worst, Hikaru would get blocked off in his cavern and die of thirst.

He closed his eyes. Himura Kenshin would still never see the sun. Punishment complete. Revenge taken. Death or salvation on its way. The nightmare purged at last.

Hikaru looked forward to it.

* * *

It hurt, her whole body points and stabs of pain, white stars dancing before her eyes. She had seen Aoshi throw himself over Misao, sheltering over her as the ceiling fell violently around them. Kaoru and Yahiko had jumped for each other as well, each with the same idea of protecting one another. But Yahiko had been slightly faster, slightly stronger, slightly more desperate, reaching her first, twisting his teacher beneath him, forcing her under his protection.

_Kenshin!_

Rocks still hit her. Weight still crushed her. What was Yahiko feeling, sheltering her with his smaller body? Kaoru passed the point of hysterics, and then as quickly beyond them. To a another point. To the Why of her suffering. Her soul cried it out again.

_Kenshin!_

It wasn't enough. She forced her elbows under her. Her mouth was pressed against a rock, more, smaller ones, dashed against her, were hitting Yahiko, rapidly covering them. Skinning her face on broken stone she screamed it out with all the power of her lungs.

"_KENSHIN_!"

* * *

That beating and shaking again. Sano had hoped before that it was gone, but, not having any better ideas, he began to follow the flow of vibrations, heading toward what was probably danger. Into danger with two frightened elderly people and one wounded, broken-minded swordsman, and hoped with his whole heart it wasn't a mistake.

Kenshin tensed on his back, gasped once. "Kaoru…!" he moaned, obviously either not awake or he had drifted out again. Sano tightened his grip on his knees to keep him from falling off.

Sanosuke might have shrugged this off, but his skin prickled. A memory, something that happened not so very long ago. Of another place that was under the earth, but this one furnished comfortably, like a mansion, a fortress. There had been a target to chase then, a man shrouded in bandages. Kenshin had stopped running suddenly, half-turned to look back the way they had come down the long corridor.

"Kaoru-dono's voice just now," he'd said.

And of course, both Sano and their enemy/guide, Shishio's woman, had checked him for fever. But later… Sano wondered.

His decision to follow the beat was cemented. Kenshin was exhausted, and after another quiet moan, he subsided into silence again. Even the shaking and the noise didn't bring him to awareness. Aijo and Daisuke followed because there was nowhere else for them to go now. Sano wished he could break into a run, but couldn't risk leaving either of them behind. They deserved better than that for looking after Kenshin all his time.

But he was scared now, filled with premonitions he wished he didn't have.

_Jou-chan--Kaoru--be all right. Be all right. We're coming. Just--hang on. He needs you!

* * *

_

Nothing was broken.

The cacophony hadn't completely ceased, but there were small pauses now. What they meant, Kaoru didn't know. She was busy.

She hurt, but nothing unbearable as she clawed at the rubble atop her and Yahiko. He was still, very still. Limp and malleable above her, so unlike when he had been subdued by the Shortsifter.

"Yahiko!" She coughed as she breathed in dirt, but hollered his name again. No answer. Hoping there was nothing broken inside him either, she went back to clawing, shoving, pushing, trying to get back into clean air.

She was able to get her knees under her, protecting Yahiko's head as best she could. She shifted enough to stand, pulling him with her with a burst of strength she was entirely certain she could afford to spend. They broke through their grave of debris, and she blinked through the tears trying to run dirt particles out of her eyes at a few flickering torches, of shifting bodies making their way carefully toward her.

Cow's head, lolling, fleshy tongues…

She eased Yahiko down, still partly submerged in fallen rocks, crawled on a larger rock to crouch unsteadily there. She reached out to seize the shinai on her student's back.

She was crying, tears running down her face. Angry, angry tears. If they'd made her lose someone else…!

She held the shinai out before her. There were a few that she could see, a line of them that vanished into the shadows. They saw her. Warm wetness that was not of her tears ran down the side of her face, but didn't spare it a thought beyond registering the feeling.

"You can't stop me," she said. A breathy whisper that still carried in the uncertain silence. A whisper, but a promise, a vow. "You can't. No one can. He needs me! If I lose my life, I'll continue to fight with my spirit. But I will go to him. You can't stop me." The point of her weapon was at level with the face of the closest minotaurs. "_You can't stop me_."

* * *

Author's note:  
_I can hear some moans from here. I know that a triad of reunions is wanted, by some very desperately. Please be patient, though. It's not time yet. But soon. Soon._


	20. Found and Lost

20  
Found and Lost

Hikaru let out a low stream of curses. His water supply was low.

It was usually Tan who kept this area well-stocked and changed the water sacks and jugs, but of course Tan hadn't thought to restock before he died. There was plenty of food, for one person anyway, but not a lot of water left.

Hikaru smiled to himself at the irony. Even if he was leaving the door wide open to welcome death, he was still a little picky about just how. Dying of thirst was among the least pleasant ways to die. He'd seen it happen often enough in his own domain to know that. Some poor souls just got lost and couldn't find their way back to a water source in time.

Tan had believed that death should happen swiftly. Except very few deaths in the labyrinth were. It had never been any wonder that Tan couldn't sleep. It was difficult to allow yourself to rest when every day of your life you did something you couldn't live with.

He gave up sorting through empty water sacks and leaned back in his wheelchair to ease a cramp in the weak muscles of his back. He sighed, staring down the tunnel that led to several points of nowhere. It didn't look like Oaka was going to come back. At least, not any time soon. Yes, he was probably having difficulty finding the Shortsifter, and there was no point in returning without it, even if it was to care for his lord.

Hoshi hadn't made her way here either, but if she was still alive, she would. Eventually. It was sifted into them all to return to their service to the Penna cousins.

Absently, he lifted one of his pistols and licked the tip. Rested the barrel against his teeth and practiced trying to pull the trigger. His mind rejected each attempt by freezing the muscles in his fingers until his whole hand was a knotted mass of pain. He gave up and massaged his hand, shrugging to himself. There was fruit in boxes in the far corner. He'd eat that first, save his water. Try to wait for a better end.

He wondered how Himura Kenshin and the ones from his dojo were doing now.

* * *

"One of you come get Kenshin!"

_Come get me? What? Why?_

"Sagara-san, are you sure--"

"Can't you hear that? I think there's a fight--I've got to go. My friend might--"

_Sano? Sano, where are you going?_

"Keep Kenshin here, don't let him out of your sight. I'll be right back."

_What's going on? Why can't I see?_

_**The light went out.**_

"Kenshin, it's okay. Just stay here with Aijo-san and Daisuke-san. I'll be right back--"

_No! Sano, where are you--!_

"No, Kenshin-chan, sit down. It's okay, he's not leaving you--he'll be back in a little while--"

_**Calm down, you idiot!**_

_I can't! He'll get lost!

* * *

_

Just as Aijo and Daisuke were thinking they might have to sit on the struggling young man to keep him from running after his friend, he suddenly went limp and burst out laughing.

The old couple exchanged glances before they eased off him, watching him roll over to one side in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "H-he'll get lost!" he said, and then laughed again, as if his words were more to remind himself of his joke than to explain.

But then, the laughter was gone, and he repeated it again. "He'll get l-lost. No. No, Sano! Come back! You'll get lost!"

* * *

Sanosuke sprinted in the dark, with his hands before him so that he wouldn't run face-first into stone. He was coming to hate the dark. A lot. The way it tried to swallow him up, the way it felt like he had been fighting against it since that headfirst plunge into the bowels of the island.

He heard Kenshin calling after him, but he didn't have the time to stay to reassure him. He stopped running and held his breath. He'd heard it! The sounds of battle. Where was it?

_You'll get lost._

"Damn it, Kenshin," he growled, straining his ears. The walls were still, no vibrations. _I won't get lost. It's a straight shot right now. If there're any turns, I'll come back for you. I won't get lost, and I won't lose you. Now shut up and let me hear._

"Come on…come on…" he murmured, feeling his way more slowly along the wall. He knew he had heard shouts…maybe it wasn't his people, but--

A light appeared in front of him so suddenly that it had to have turned a corner. A light, not torchlight, but a real metal lantern that spread light out clean and steady on the tunnel walls.

But there was a great, majestic shadow behind it, one that seemed to billow out like a raptor spreading its wings, even as the figure that cast it stood ramrod straight.

He was stunned into stillness, speechlessness, except for one sound that escaped his mouth, a statement and a question, one in the same. "_You!_"

* * *

Misao had never been so disoriented before. There was the sense--and with it, the natural panic--of being buried alive. There was a warm, shifting body crushed against hers. She found an anchor in the rubble around her and began to struggle in earnest for freedom.

There must have been a moment she blanked out, because when she came to herself again she was _fighting_. Someone swung a crude stave at her, which she caught, reflexes saving her. Caught badly, absorbing too much impact on her wrists, numbing her hands, but the result was still better than stopping the staff with her face. Grasping the rough wood, she twisted their bodies to the side and brought up her foot, aiming for unprotected neck of the bull-man.

He fell back, or down. It was so difficult to fight in such darkness. She was small and they were big and there were a lot of them. She was faster and resorted to a lot of low blows she would have avoided in fairer circumstances. Much fairer circumstances.

There was little time to think. Only react. The simple fact was that most of her enemies were carrying large hammers from which she could not afford to take a hit. What saved her, she was most certain, was that the walls were far too narrow for them to really swing those heavy stone weapons.

A minotaur climbed on the rocks above her, and she shot out with a quick kick, catching the loose rocks beneath his feet. He fell back on the others grouped behind him. A small one--a woman, she realized--swung out at her from the left with another stick, this one with a sharp stone tied on the end of it. Misao caught the middle of it, used their weight to slam the stick down hard on more of the hard stone piled everywhere. The wood cracked loudly as it broke apart, and Misao kicked the minotaur woman with all her force in the abdomen. Their heads were too protected by those horrid masks. There was no guarantee she would stay down.

A big man threw himself at her. With little choice and even less room to dodge, she grasped him by the fleshy parts of his arms and fell purposefully backwards. She cried out through her teeth as jagged stone gouged into her back, but she rolled with the momentum anyway, bringing up her feet into the madman's stomach, sending him flying over her and into the piles of rocks across the tunnel.

She jumped to her feet quickly, irritatingly aware of every part of her that was bruised or cut or bleeding, and caught sight of Kaoru.

It was a good thing the other girl had chosen to stay near the light, a brand of fire that had been dropped on the stone floor, or else Misao may not have known her in the darkness. But she could, and Kaoru was undertaking as much effort to go nowhere as Misao herself was. Where was Aoshi? She tried to remember what happened to him after she crawled out from under him, but… Was he still buried under the rubble? Where?

The top of her head throbbed. She wanted to sit down and put her head between her knees for a while, but it wasn't a good idea.

Her head throbbed again. Bad distraction. The fallen torch made light glint on a blade that flashed right before her eyes.

The shock brought her to her senses. She yelped, took a hasty step back and tripped up on the rocks. A arm was behind her then, solid, not ungentle.

Aoshi. The blade was his.

"It's all right, Misao," he said, but as she looked up at him, she didn't believe that it was. He was hurt some, sporting his own bruises, bumps, and cuts, but this wasn't what worried her. It was in the sluggish way he spoke, the detached way his eyes moved about in the small area of light. It wasn't all right at all.

But he knew her. This was important, very, very important. That he knew her if they were going to fight side by side, or if this was the place that would become their graves. She hadn't been forgotten, not really.

Another wave of dizziness blotted out the world again, but Aoshi's arm was still firm behind her shoulders. She gripped at his clothing, trying to find balance again.

Pulling all her will together, she stamped away the weakness and moved at Aoshi's side as they shot through the ring of minotaurs circling around Kaoru.

Misao saw they had begun keeping their distance because Kaoru had been using a new tactic: throwing rocks. There were plenty at hand, and every time one of them ventured too close, she reached down, scooped up a stone and threw it with all her might. And she, like Misao had been, aimed a little underhandedly. But what she was lacking in mercy she made up for in knowledge of masculine weak points.

"Are you all right?" Misao asked when they reached her.

She didn't look any more all right than Aoshi did, just as black and blue and streaked with red. With one exception: where Aoshi's eyes didn't seem to focus properly, Kaoru's were intense, and when she looked directly at Misao, the young okashira was reminded a little of the weak-kneed feeling she had gotten when Kenshin had looked at her during his first battle against Seta Sojiro.

"Yahiko's hurt."

She saw him, just behind Kaoru, still partly buried under fallen rock. She clenched her teeth in anger that burned away at the low budding of despair.

She was about to move to him when three minotaurs charged at once.

Kaoru hurled the stone in her hand where it collided with the forerunner's shoulder with an unpleasant _thwok_. There was a beastlike howl, and he stopped to clutch at the numbed limb.

But the other two ran past him, waving bludgeons. Aoshi stepped forward to meet the first, but even as he did, others took courage and surged forward as well.

Aoshi struck out with kodachi in either hand, stabbing ahead and sideward at the half-seen, converging figures pressing near. Misao was at his side instantly, crushing down her fears. Aoshi could still fight. She could still fight. Kaoru was protecting Yahiko. For now, she could think no further than that.

A very fat warrior plunged forward in Misao's sight. She reacted swiftly, launching herself to strike the bull-man full on, using all her weight to jam her elbow slightly under his mask and into his windpipe. He collapsed to the right, and twisted away as another swung low and viciously at her with a crude spear.

Aoshi was on him, laying open his back from nape to kidney, driving him down into the stone.

Misao had no time to say anything to him. Another minotaur, this one weaponless, swung a clumsy fist at her head, throwing himself off balance and leaving no provision for his defense. She seized his arm and swung herself as hard as she could, propelling him into the stone wall.

There were a lot of howls and battle cries, some of them bursting from her own throat. But then, there was a new cry from further down the part of the tunnel that had not collapsed.

"_Orrrrahhhh_!"

"Sanosuke!" Kaoru cried from further behind Misao and Aoshi.

Sano charged into battle with a shout, ploughing through the minotaurs in his path in a fury. There was desperation in the way he fought, like he was in a deathly hurry and didn't have time to be stopped.

He shoved back another one, just to the left of Kaoru. "Are you all right?" he shouted. He didn't wait for Kaoru's nod, his eyes raking over them, falling last on Yahiko. "Is the kid okay?" he demanded.

Misao had part of an eye on the remaining minotaurs, but they were faded back somewhat, as if reluctant now to advance.

Sano didn't bother to wait for an answer this time either, though Kaoru's mouth had opened to give one. His darted forward, peeled back one of Yahiko's eyelids. Then he ran both hands down the boy's sides, looking for broken bones. Then, evidently finding none, he scooped him up. "Everybody can walk, right? Hurry, come on. Come _on_."

"Sano, what--"

"I found Kenshin, but--"

"Kenshin!" Kaoru jerked forward, grabbed a fistful of Sano's jacket. "You found him? Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Yes…no…God, Jou-chan, we can run and talk at the same time, but I've got to get back to him now. We can't leave Kenshin with him, not like this!"

Sano was nearly shaking with panic, Misao realized, and again not waiting for a response he turned, Yahiko held carefully in his arms, and began jogging back the way he had come. Minotaurs be damned.

Misao ran after him first, Kaoru just at her heels.

"Sano!" Kaoru cried. "Who? We can't leave Kenshin with who?"

* * *

_**Oh…no…**_

_Huh…what?_

An old sense, rusty with disuse, raged against Kenshin's awareness. It made him a little sick, so he pressed his face into Aijo's shoulder, where he was resting in the old woman's arms, sharing her warmth. It was even colder here than it was at their camp. Because there was no fire, he reasoned.

_**Get up!**_

_No… Why?_

_**Get UP!**_

_Tired…_

_**Get up! Please!**_

He opened his eyes. Not at conflict within him so much as a smell. Something he hadn't smelled in a while.

Tobacco. Smoke.

Cigarette?

_**Can't you feel it?**_

Part of him really wanted to get to his feet. Part of him wanted to press his hair out of his eyes and curl his fingers around his stick, see if he could steel himself to meet a powerful stare.

The other part of him grasped onto Aijo as he heard Daisuke's challenge of, "Who are you? What do you want?"

_No…oh, no, no, no, no, no--_

_**Will you face him like this? GET UP!**_

He got his knees under him, then his feet, pulling away from Aijo even as she tried to discourage his movements, wanting him to stay down.

He straightened up. He couldn't find his stick--realized Daisuke had it, clutching it before him in front of a much calmer man, who ignored him, looking past the old man and to Kenshin. He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette, took his time breathing it out in that cold, unmovable way of his.

"So…_here _you are, Battousai."

The man's name was slow to come. Not the emotions. Not the memory, fuzzy and insubstantial and long ago-seeming as it was. But the name…

…_among the wolves_…

"S…Sai…to," Kenshin whispered.


	21. Mercy

Author's note:

_The scene where Sano sees a man holding a lantern and a shadow was deliberately meant to fool, which you may have already know now. I used to lead people through the old gold mines in my hometown by lantern at Halloween, and the light cast by lantern that uses fire rather than modern energy really does do that to your shadows up against cave walls. It doesn't matter how you look, your shadow is always a monster._

_And, before you go on with the chapter, make sure you're already calm. Take a few nice, deep breaths. I'll wait. … … Okay, you're ready? On with the story.

* * *

_

21  
Mercy

Kenshin's torn memory couldn't provide him with a similar moment when he had been so dismayed.

Saito spoke, but his words only partly made sense, the rest lost somewhere beyond the pounding of his heart. Saito spoke again, this time with traces of annoyance. But this time his words made even less sense.

Kenshin tried to find calm, tried to think. Where was Sano? How did Saito get here? Did he want to fight?

He didn't think he could fight. This was a painful thought that hurt and shamed and angered him all at once, but he really didn't think he could duel Saito now. He didn't even have a sword--

Daisuke turned at the trunk to look at him, but at the same time, Saito stepped forward. Kenshin was not able to handle it as his attention was drawn into two places at once. His thoughts spun out of control, and he took a step back, desperately scrambling for something to say or a course of action.

The lantern Saito held cast light over his face, but left its up-creeping shadows in the slanted lines of his face, drawn together in high annoyance. The effect was…ghastly.

And all thought deserted Kenshin.

* * *

"_You left him with Saito_?"

"I didn't leave him with anybody but this old couple! I ran into that squinty-eyed bastard, and he went back the direction I came looking for Kenshin. What did you _want _me to do?"

"You should have stayed with him!"

"And what, have all of us keep wandering around this God-forsaken labyrinth looking for each other for the rest of our lives?"

Tempers, misdirected, flared, but the ones who raised their voices didn't seem to care. The empty darkness could still be filled with fire, fight, and noise. Sunlight might not be that far away…Kenshin wasn't far.

"If you've lost him--" Kaoru warned hoarsely.

"I'm not lost!" Sano growled. He held Yahiko as still as he could as they raced through the tunnels, dodging fallen debris. At least, he didn't think he was. There had only been one turn, but he had been disconcerted by Saito Hajime's appearance, delayed moments longer than he wanted by trying to convince him to wait or come along instead of heading off down the passage to see Kenshin for himself.

It wasn't so much that Sano didn't feel like fighting anymore. In fact, he almost wanted to see more of those bull-heads to relieve a little more stress. But he didn't want to bring a lot of screaming and yelling and arguing right up to Kenshin, who was sort of…fragile…just now.

He opened his mouth to say so, but then there was another voice calling through the air. Sano froze, and Misao crash into his back.

"_Sano! SANO! SAAAANO!_"

Misao was the first to find her voice. "Himura!"

Kaoru burst into a sprint, already several strides past Sano before he could move. But then he was beside her, careful to support Yahiko's head close to his body as the tunnel narrowed. "I'm coming!" he shouted, hoping the words would reach him.

* * *

A sea of waving grass, tall enough to brush against his belly. Blood dripping from the tall, wide stalks, and he tried to back away from it, but there was always more.

He almost tripped over a body lying in the grass. He moved away from it mechanically, quivering with the resounding knowledge that, though he had no memory of doing so, he had slain the man.

Only in backing away, he did trip over another body, sprawling hard on his back. A soft cry escaped him as he scrambled back, his back coming up against the withered husk of an old dead tree. He had killed this one too…

_**I didn't want to. I didn't want to kill them.**_

_But if I didn't want to, why did I?_

Wind blew in his face. He closed his eyes against it.

_Why did I not forget this?_

_**That would be mercy, wouldn't it? And that which I could never show, was that which I don't receive.**_

…

_**It would be wrong. To forget.**_

…_Yes._

The sunlight was the late afternoon dull-butter color, but it didn't touch him. It was around him, but he was cut off from it. He hesitated, and then he tried to move out of the shade, longing to stand in the sun again.

A wolf appeared over the rock, standing up smoothly through the grass, befanged grin glinting at him mockingly.

_Stop hurting me. I can't fight._

He glared back at the beast, and past it, to the man within it. He bared his own teeth, growing angry before he realized it.

_**Not now! I can't fight you! Damn it! Damn you! STOP HURTING ME!**_

The beast bowed slightly with surprise when he suddenly launched himself at it, knocking it onto its back and falling on top of it. The struggle was strange--it didn't feel like an animal under his hands. In fact, it seemed there were other hands he couldn't quite see grappling back with him, and no teeth went for his flesh.

Another thought jarred his awareness, the simple wrongness of the situation, and there was a blow to his stomach that took his breath and sent him crashing back into something hard and unyielding. His left arm gave a hard throb, pain beginning at the unhealed break and spreading out through the impaled palm like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He cried out, choosing this moment to remember a colorful curse he'd heard Sanosuke say recently, and cradled the limb to his chest.

He shut his eyes tightly. At some point, when he wasn't looking…no, he still hadn't looked. But he still knew, knew that the wolf had become Saito. And yet was still the wolf. It made sense and it didn't make sense, and he understood and didn't understand just the same.

The creature breathed harshly, like steel sliding from a sheath. There was an all-too-human shouting, and the scent of tobacco, still very near.

The hand hurt, and it felt warm and wet now. He pressed his good hand against it.

There was a burst of movement in front of him so violent that his eyes fluttered open. He cried out in surprise as the cadaver that had been lying in the grass in the dry crust of its own blood latched onto his wrists.

Caught against the tree, he couldn't move away. The bark felt cold and hard like stone as he twisted to the side.

Someone was talking, yelling, but he couldn't see the speaker and he didn't understand the words. It was suddenly very dark. One blink and there was still the late sunshine he remembered, and the next there were deeps shadows at war with weak firelight.

_I…I'll protect you, Kenshin, I swear…I swear…_

"Sano?" he whispered, still trying to get away from the hands that held him.

_Y…y-you will p-protect me, Sano?_

_You're damn right I will. I don't know what all they did to you--but they won't be doing it again._

"_Sano! SANO! SAAAANO!_"

He nearly sobbed as the left arm made an alarming popping sound brought on by his own jerking on it.His throat burned. Was he screaming? More talking. Fast talking. He still couldn't understand. The sun was gone; somebody had taken it from him again. Maybe the sun was never real. Maybe just a long, nice dream, like the feel of grass and the scent of summer honeysuckle. Like children's laughter. Like the wide-open roads he had walked alone for years and years.

The weight was off him, very suddenly. Almost as it had just been waiting for him to go still. Maybe it was, and the thought bothered him, and he didn't understand why.

Then there were other hands on him. Much smaller, softer hands. They were hesitant, gentle, unthreatening. A quivering voice speaking, but he still couldn't hold onto the words. He flinched when light was shone in his eyes, and it was quickly taken away when the nice voice snapped out something harsh.

He was lifted a little, head and shoulders supported on a lap. Familiar it was, the way the little hands were brushing the air away from his face. Somebody different tried to touch his left hand but he jerked away, pressed a little closer to the one who was being gentle.

The moment he turned toward the gentle one, he was being hugged, rocked, cradled. With arms that shook. Words were spoken, but he still couldn't concentrate.

A soft, warm mouth touched his forehead. Such a good scent. So very familiar.

Familiar…like…

He finally opened his eyes, gazed up blearily at the soft one who comforted him. Kaoru…

Oh, a Kaoru dream. Yes, such nice dreams. He loved to have them. This was his mercy that he had thought was denied him. She always came when he was closest to becoming lost. She always led him back.

He started to close his eyes again and let himself drift, but there was a little stab into his peace. Something was wrong.

Perhaps it was the smell of salt. He blinked slowly up at her face, saw tears there. It wasn't unusual for her to cry when he dreamed of her, but…

There were bruises all over her face. Large ones, small ones. Her bottom lip was split in two places. A little layer of sweat was just under her hairline. A little rivulet of blood was drying on the side of her face.

Very slowly, he reached up and touched her face. It was warm and soft, but there were skinned places, little cuts…a little bleeding… Lots of dirt and smudges.

He frowned in concentration. This was so odd. What did this mean?

She spoke again, but this time slowly, so he was able to follow. She murmured soothingly. Smiled shakily. Tears on her eyelashes.

Kenshin let his forefinger drift to the tiny cuts on her lower lip. The rim drew up a little with pain at his touch, and he realized--

She was _real_!

He was stricken. He was relieved. Distressed. Ecstatic. He wished he was dead. He was so glad he had survived. He was afraid to speak to her. He had so much he wanted to say.

His hand still hovered just at her mouth. Both trembled, his hand and her mouth. "Pl…ease. Please. D-don't…don't go, don't go," he pleaded longingly, still afraid she may yet turn out not to be real. She spoke again, but he wasn't even trying to listen now. He grabbed her, pulled her close to him with his good arm. _Don't go. Please don't go. Be here when I open my eyes. Don't go, don't go._

Her hands moved up and down his back, stroked his hair. And she didn't fade away, she didn't fade…

* * *

"What the hell were you doing to him?"

Sanosuke wasn't quite in Saito's face since, however furious he was, he still knew better than that. Misao, her sad gaze on Kenshin and Kaoru, stood a little behind him, next to Aoshi. The ground near the wall had been hastily cleared to place Yahiko. At least, then, everyone was in one place now.

Saito's answer was surprising. "I wasn't doing anything to him."

Saito didn't even look at them, just stared at Kenshin, still being held and rocked by Kaoru. "He just attacked me. Like some kind of a wild animal." He rubbed his jaw, absently. Kenshin must have gotten in a good hit or two. "What has been done to him?"

"What are you doing here?" Sano shot back. "How did you find this place?" But he was toned down from how he had been when they'd first run up on the scene of the oldsters and Saito trying--and failing--to restrain Kenshin, who was kicking, screaming, shouting mindlessly, hurting himself. Maybe he should have stayed after all…

"I asked my question first," Saito said equably.

It was Aoshi who decided to answer, or maybe he simply didn't want to hear any more needless arguing. He reached into his coat, and Sano heard the musical jingling of the Shortsifter being drawn out.

* * *

Misao felt a little like a child who had lost interest in what the "adults" were talking about as she moved away from the three men and sat down slowly by Yahiko. She wasn't listening as Aoshi was explaining what they knew about the Mindsifter. He'd move on to the Penna cousins and the minotaurs as proof of what the terrible thing could do. She didn't care to review it; she'd seen enough already.

She glanced at Kenshin and Kaoru one last time. The redhead looked so frail, all starved and half-naked, messed-up hand oozing blood down his wrist. Sanosuke had already tried to look at it, but Kenshin didn't seem to know anyone but Kaoru at the moment. He had to be cold, shivering as the two of them clung to each other. They had shut everything and everyone out, in a world with where only the two of them existed.

She thought about the look on Saito's face when he'd asked, "What has been done to him?" Was that possibly an emotion that didn't involve derision? It didn't pay to look too much into it, since it was nothing she could put a name to, but she wondered exactly what she would call her own emotions if she came to find that her evenhanded rival, adversary, respected enemy, and sometime-ally was thus, gravely wounded in body, mind, and spirit…

Would it be so different than the way she felt, seeing what had been done to a very dear friend? And for no reason at all…

She checked on Yahiko, relieved to see the boy breathing well. He'd probably wake up soon. She turned away from him and held her throbbing head in her hands, feeling every last ache brought on by the cave-in and deep, deep fatigue. What time was it, anyway? It had been a long, long time since she last slept.

Maybe, just for a little while… Best to rest while she could. They still had to find a way out. She hoped it wasn't far.


	22. Rest for the Weary

22  
Rest for the Weary

"Kenshin? Buddy? It's okay, it's just me."

"Sano?"

"Yeah. I need you to hold still so I can look at your hand, okay?"

"No…"

"Yes. Look at it, Buddy. See, it's bleeding everywhere again."

"I hurt…my arm."

"I…I know. But I still have to look at it. Will you let me?"

"I was…c-calling you…"

"Yeah…yeah, I heard you. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I ran into these really ugly… Sorry, if I'd known he was going to--"

"Are you all r-right? D-did you get lost?"

"No, no. I didn't get lost. I've been finding my way around here better than at home. Will you let me see your hand?"

"Sano?"

"Yeah?"

"D-do…do you s-see Kaoru-dono?"

"Yeah. She's right there, Kenshin. It's okay."

"Is she all right?"

"Yeah, she's just sleeping because she's tired."

"Is it my fault?"

"_No_, Kenshin. It's not your fault. It's that droopy-eyed bastard's and the freak in the wheelchair's. Now, _please _let me see your hand?"

"Sano…"

"What?"

"Th-thank you…thank you for c-coming when I called."

* * *

Wonder of wonders, there was a little hot spring not far from the rainbow room that still protected the Mindsifter, almost in the exact opposite direction that Kaoru, Aoshi, Misao and Yahiko had been fleeing the minotaurs.

The madmen themselves had cleared out, fading back into whatever shadows that had birthed them for now. Once in a while, their terrible beating would shake the rock, but it was sporadic and infrequent now. And far away, which was even better.

They had backtracked again through the rainbow room--since Saito had confirmed it was now empty--to make absolutely certain that they way they had come in truly did not have a way back out that wasn't obvious enough to be noticed the first time around. But, no, there had to be another way out. And Kaoru supported Kenshin as they walked, the two of them wrapped around each other like they'd been born that way.

The discovery of the hot spring was a happy one, to say the least. But Kenshin didn't see it that way, not at first.

The world had seemed to shrink considerably for him. He recognized Sanosuke, Kaoru and Aijo well, but Daisuke, Misao and Aoshi could only safely approach him if they carefully announced themselves first. If they didn't, he became extremely defensive-aggressive, even violent. Having Kaoru back had put Kenshin in semi-permanent "protect mode", or so Sano had termed it.

It was true enough, the way he clutched her to him as they walked; it wasn't so much that he was feeling in need--though there were moments when he was--but it was that he seemed to believe that every shadow held something that might hurt him or - more importantly - her.

Saito was forbidden to go near him at all, somewhat more for Kenshin's safety than for his own. If Saito dared to come too near, Kenshin would begin to hyperventilate, instinctively pressed his body over Kaoru's, and his eyes would lighten dangerously.

This was so worrisome that in the first few hours before they discovered the hot spring, Sano decided it was best if Kenshin didn't carry his stick. This was fairly easy at first, since the rurouni was far too wrapped up in Kaoru to notice he was missing it. Sano wondered if he shouldn't abandon the thing somewhere, remove the temptation altogether, but some instinct or another rebelled against leaving it behind. If there were more monsters in these stony walls…well, Sanosuke had seen for himself that Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu was still a part of his friend. There might be a time in the future when his skills could be needed, if only to make him less helpless should something happen.

On the other hand, they couldn't have the terribly confused man lashing out at any of them if he was suddenly unable to tell friend from foe, or worse, forget where he was and what he was doing and start trying to duel Saito with it. This wasn't a concern before, but Kenshin had been calmer and more compliant when it was just him, Sano, and the oldsters.

Sanosuke said nothing of this to the others, just taking Daisuke aside to quietly explain the matter, and the old man agreed to carry the stick and hang back in the group with it so Kenshin, walking locked together with Kaoru, wouldn't see it.

It didn't last, though. Kenshin eventually did remember he was carrying a stick before, checking his hands and the empty place at his side for it and finding it gone. He remembered that he used it in place of his sword. And he remembered that if he didn't have it, Daisuke usually did.

Sano was carrying Yahiko on his back not unlike the way he had been hauling Kenshin through the tunnels when the redhead suddenly turned around.

He had been looking like he might turn around for several paces before, but usually stopped like he had forgotten or changed his mind. But his eyes passed across the others, dishearteningly without recognition for most of them, and stopped at Daisuke.

And of course, he saw his stick in the old man's hand. He smiled, happy, childlike and guileless, and maybe a little fuzzily through the veil of pain of his damaged left arm and pulled away from Kaoru only slightly, good hand stretched forward for the slender pole.

Not knowing what else to do, Sanosuke stepped between him and Daisuke, miserable with guilt when the smile vanished to be replaced with that awful confused expression again. The others stopped walking to watch, similar expressions on their faces, wondering what was going on.

"You, ah…you should just keep going there with Jou-chan, Kenshin," Sano suggested weakly, hoping to distract him. "You don't need that old stick getting in your way…"

He trailed off weakly, feeling ludicrous for suggesting to a swordsman, even a broken one, that he could let his weapon get in the way of anything. And Kenshin knew it, judging from the little frown and the pucker between his eyes.

Then, surprising Sano, the confusion cleared as if the rurouni had just figured something out. In fact, Kenshin fairly beamed as he took in a deep breath and said clearly, "Sano, may I have my stick back?"

Yahiko was suddenly very heavy on the fighter's back, and he felt like there was an even heavier stone that had just been dropped in his stomach. He stared back at Kenshin in horror for a few seconds. He cursed himself violently, inwardly for not seeing that this might happen, for that stupid game they had played before: trading the stick for an unbroken sentence.

Sano had to swallow several times before he could trust himself to speak. The others were wearing expression from curious to vaguely upset; such was the face Kaoru wore, looking back from Kenshin to Sano. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but he could tell she didn't like the looks on either of their faces.

Especially as Sano watched, with a dull throb of grief in his heart, the smile slide away from Kenshin's face for the second time. Kenshin looked uncertain, then repeated the sentence again, more slowly, as if listening to himself to make certain there weren't any mistakes. Satisfied with his speech, he looked at Sano expectantly.

Sano caved. Crumbled. "Sure, Kenshin," he whispered thinly. "That's very good. Go ahead…and take it…"

He moved out of the way, leaving Daisuke to hand over the stick.

So that idea had gone badly, but at least the redhead hadn't gone crazy with the stick as they feared. In fact, it seemed all their worries were for nothing because he seemed a little more stable, a bit more secure, once he had it back, and stopped bristling at long shadows and noises in the distance.

Then they stumbled on the spring. Or more accurately, they moved toward it, feeling the heat and the unique smell of it. Without much greater purpose of direction, they were drawn to it.

It looked like the Penna cousins had used it well in the past. An artful little wall had been built around it with stone slats, and a ramp-like groove had been carved into a shallow area. Mostly-empty bottles of oil were placed around the edges of the little wall.

It was warm in these chambers; a godsend enough to stop for a while.

Sanosuke had had to resort to pleading with Kenshin to get him to consider bathing his hand and another bandage change, but he did it unashamedly. His efforts combined with Kaoru's gentle, patient pleading, he got him to take a few, limping steps toward the spring.

As Kenshin lost contact with Kaoru, he also lost his purpose. He whirled back, looking confused and frightened. Impulsively, Sano grabbed him.

It was a bad idea. Kenshin stretched his hands to her. "Don't, don't, don't!" he begged, of Kaoru or Sano they weren't sure. But Sano let him go instantly, and he leapt back into Kaoru's arms, latching on again tightly.

Sanosuke ran a hand through his hair, locking eyes with Kaoru. Tears of agony and anger at the general situation had filled her eyes as she smoothed Kenshin's hair and murmured as soothingly as she could when her voice was shaking.

* * *

By the time the others who wanted to took a turn at the hot spring, Kaoru and Sano had worked out a plan for getting Kenshin into the water. It was going to be difficult. It was even hard to speak of, words stumbling miserably from tight lips and pale faces, eyes always on the ground or on their hands, and sometimes on Kenshin, but never on each other.

Kenshin sat between the two of them on the far side of the room where jutting ridges of rock allowed a screen for bathers in the spring. Misao used it first, while Aoshi and Saito waiting on the other side of the ridges, standing guard as well as discussing the labyrinth and the Mindsifter in low tones. Sano left Kaoru and Kenshin alone for a short time while he washed out Yahiko's injuries, bandaged the few that needed it, and then brought the boy back to the rock ridges near Misao, who was talking with the old couple.

Then it was time.

Kaoru's heart was beating fast, but she tried to look brave and nonchalant for Kenshin's sake. He didn't seem to know what was going on, but he also didn't seem to have a lot of fear of the spring itself, only of being separated from her.

They led him out toward the shallow part with the built-in slope. He became a little unsteady when Kaoru let go of him and turned her back, but she remedied this by holding on tightly to his good hand. There was the rustling of clothing being removed. Kenshin made lightly upset, protesting noises at Sanosuke, who covered him over with soothing noises and partly-verbal assurances that it was necessary, it would just be for a while, Kaoru wasn't going anywhere.

She kept his attention by making circles in the palm of his hand with her thumb, but she couldn't say a word.

Her mind was numbed and re-numbed to the point that whatever she was doing now was simple motion. Logically, she knew this was a defense against tears, but also as logically, this was one of those things she might have to pay for later. Sooner or later, it might all come out--maybe before she was ready.

_What have they done to him? _It was a prayer of sorts, directed at anyone who might care about her, about her rurouni, about anyone else who had had their lives thrown to a violent halt, and had risked the unknown in this place to search for him. And it _was _dark, so dark and so forever, and Kenshin stammered and stumbled when he tried to talk, and she had to repeat things to him many times before he understood her, and Sano was talking to him like he was a small child, and--

"Jou-chan?"

Sanosuke had been speaking softly like that for a while. And it still sounded strange. The tone-downed energy, the compulsory mellowness he kept on for Kenshin's sake wasn't right. Not Sano, who was all emotion and energy, honest in what he projected and what came out of his mouth.

"Jou-chan, you don't have to do this if you don't want to…" He trailed off, the last couple of words tinged with weariness that was also so unlike him. He'd said it before. He didn't exactly want to do this, didn't want to put her through it, and Kaoru knew that, like her, he was actually hoping Kenshin might not remember this later when he was…better.

But Kenshin was still dangerous, even like this. Maybe even more so. Like this. And so fragile, too, at the same time. She remembered his cries, clear and ringing panic, when she'd slipped off from him when he had been napping to take care of her needs, and had to run back, where the others were trying to keep him from running off into the darkness to search for her.

At the same time, when she was careful to keep contact with him, and they were still, not moving or walking and he didn't feel he had to be constantly vigilant, he seemed almost normal, if a lot more quiet. Only the "normal" came with other prices. He couldn't tell her what happened.

There had been times, many, many times Kenshin _wouldn't _tell her things that happened. There were whole eras in his life that he was never going to speak of, perhaps for as long as long as they lived. And that was fine. If there were things she didn't know, they were for him to know and him only. Kaoru had them too, sealed up secrets, though none so deep and dark as some he kept. He could take on a rather haunted look at times when he forgot to guard his eyes.

But this was different. It seemed, when she tried to speak to him, he wanted to tell her things. Part of it was that he couldn't remember how to phrase certain things. His words were simple, a lot of vocabulary gone, or maybe just lost somewhere inside. Aijo had said there was a time when Kenshin could neither speak nor understand words, only gestures and smiles and expressions.

Tears stung at her eyes, and her thoughts were uncharitable. She silently cursed the soul of Penna Tan and wished she had had a chance to turn some of that berserker rage that had so frightened everyone back in the rainbow room on Penna Hikaru. And damn the unknown, faceless shadow that was Penna Taro as well. And while she was at it, she went ahead and cursed every generation back to God-damn _Daedalus _as well!

She took in a deep breath, and began to back up slowly as Sano maneuvered them toward the water. Kenshin's hand tightened on hers, and she squeezed back to reassure him, wondering how hot the water was. It seemed like a long time since she had a hot bath, and it was probably much, much longer for him.

Sano moved fast, his hand moving smoothly between Kenshin's and Kaoru's breaking their grip quickly.

Kaoru moved quickly too, not turning around, just trusting that Sano would have both himself and Kenshin turned around in time. Her hands were shaking a little. Emotions of many kinds, maybe a little shock. Somewhat nervous about this.

She had her obi undone just as Kenshin began to make those noises. She didn't like those noises, the soft, high sounds he made when he was trying to talk but couldn't remember words he needed to do so. Like little prompts when he hoped that the person he spoke to could supply them for him.

She took in another deep breath as she doffed her training gi. She left the wrap around her top as she tossed her clothing over the rock where Sano had put his, and what was left of Kenshin's. Her wrap would get wet, but she wasn't going into the water with her two male friends stark naked, and she couldn't go in fully clothed. Her clothes would be wet, and while it was wonderfully warm in the cavern with the spring, it was very cold everywhere else. She would freeze.

It would have been easier if she could have just sat on the edge of the little wall between the oil bottles with her back still turned to them. She could hold his hand, like she was just a few seconds ago, and he'd be assured she was still there while Sano helped him bathe, cleaned his hand, washed out the dust in his red hair. That would have been a little uncomfortable, but more comfortable than this.

The problem was, Kaoru wanted--needed--a bath too. She was covered in blood and dirt and sweat, and she very much wanted it off, but they had already tried, and failed, to explain to Kenshin that she would need even ten minutes of privacy to do so. And it wasn't that he didn't understand. No, he understood, and it frightened him badly, even when he tried to agree. Aijo had helped him to understand; the old woman was very good at explaining concepts so he could grasp them. They were pleading and reassuring him, and he understood and he tried to agree, but he was scared, pale and shaking at the thought of her leaving his sight for even that long.

That had been while Misao was still bathing. And Kaoru had met Sano's gaze over Kenshin's ducked head. It wasn't going to be worth it--she'd go without bathing if it was causing him such distress.

But, like this…if they swallowed their inhibitions for just a few minutes, they could all get cleaned up, and Kenshin wouldn't have to suffer any of the anxiety that crippled him.

She waded into the water, breathing in both pleasure and pain at the heat of the water. Kenshin turned around at the sounds of her splashing, almost too soon for the smoky water to protect her modesty. Almost, but not quite, and she reached out for him as he reached for her, feeling better herself when his good hand was gripping hers again.

Kenshin was completely oblivious to their undressed states and the embarrassment of the situation, and for a moment, so was she, looking there in his calmed violet eyes.

It would be all right soon. They had him back. He was safe now. He just needed to get back home, where it was familiar and quiet. He would…get better. Aoshi would get better as well. Hadn't Tan said when he was dying on the other island, that things could be overcome?

These might have been blatant lies. Wishful thinking. False hope.

But Kaoru wasn't forcing herself to be optimistic. This was Kenshin. Kenshin, who had the most astonishing willpower and sense of self of anyone she had ever met, even if that was a little…absent right now. Kenshin would not _allow _himself to be like this for the rest of his life.

She was sure of it.

Sano's eyes were carefully averted. He dipped low for a moment, hands under the water, and he came up with two fists full of wet sand from the bottom. There wasn't any soap, so it would have to do.

The way Kenshin started when Sano dumped it in his hair was comical enough that Kaoru smiled. It felt good to smile again, and it stayed there as long as Kenshin's bewildered expression did. He didn't understand the point of the bath if his friends were smearing mud all over him.

Kaoru also bent into the water and brought up sand. She took over Kenshin's hair while Sano quickly used the sand to scrub the rest of Kenshin's skin. She watched him close his eyes in pleasure as she scrubbed his scalp.

Sano had finished and had his back turned to them as ducked under the water for a moment and stayed there, scrubbing at his face and his own rooster-crest hair when Kaoru began to rinse the mud and sand from Kenshin's hair.

He looked so much better already, she thought. His hair was bright red again, face clean now, smoothed and for once free of confusion, fear, worry…

She was running her fingers through the long red locks to make certain she hadn't left any sand in it when he brought a hand out of the water. Hot water dripping from his index finger, he pressed against her lower lip.

His eyes hardened. And they were clear. Very clear. "Who hurt you?" he suddenly demanded.

She was a little taken aback by his sudden charge in articulacy, but it was somehow so like him that it was also almost comforting.

"Nobody hurt me, Kenshin," she said, vaguely irritated with herself for how easily she fell into mimicking that same low singsong that Sano, Aijo, and Daisuke used when they spoke to Kenshin. She corrected it, forcing her voice to the normal tones she used with him. "Nobody hurt me. We were in a cave-in--rocks fell on us. I just got a little skinned up, that's all."

He searched her face. She felt her eyes widen when he said, actually rather mildly, "Please don't lie to this one, Kaoru-dono. You have been in a fight."

Sano had finished tending to himself, and was standing quietly nearby, listening, watching. Afraid to do or say anything in case it broke the moment, in case they "lost" him again.

Kaoru swallowed, not certain what to tell him.

He didn't wait for an answer, instead pulling her into a one-armed hug. Chin pressed to her hair, he said, "I should have been there. I'm sorry."

She closed her eyes. Smiled for the second time in the same hour. Guilty, guilty Kenshin.

His hand patted at her back in a sort of searching gesture that she didn't have time to wonder at before he stiffened against her. "_Kaoru-dono_!"

She lifted her head and he backed away a step, looking down at her in horror…but of a very different kind than she had seen yet. A bright red blush that had nothing to do with the water's heat spread across his face. "Kaoru-dono, you're not-- You don't have any--" He looked down, meaning to avert his eyes, but instead drawing his own attention to himself. He had finally realized. His jaw dropped.

And he said, "_Oro_."

It was just a little sound, but full of bewilderment and disbelief. Kaoru laughed, soft but long, even when Sano, grinning broadly, slipped behind Kenshin, put an arm behind his shoulders, and started to guide him back into the shallows and out of the hot spring. "Um, come on, Kenshin. Let's get dressed and wrap up your hand. Go ahead with your, um, bath…Jou-chan."

Sanosuke was laughing somewhere behind her, and she could hear Kenshin saying, "Sano! What were we--? What were we…?"

Sano sounded more like himself. _Kenshin _sounded more like himself. Kaoru washed hurriedly, not liking the idea of this good point Kenshin had reached being destroyed if she was away for too long. She was allowing her hopes to be up, but right now, she felt like that was exactly where her hopes needed to be.

* * *

Misao moved closer to Kenshin, making her steps heavier than they needed to be so he would be sure to hear her coming.

He looked much better. Somebody had tied his hair back. It was much longer at the sides than it used to be, but still he looked more like she was used to seeing him. Sanosuke had put that "aku" jacket on him since they were going to sleep outside the lip of the hot spring cavern, out of the steam, which wasn't good for breathing too long.

Saito and Aoshi were still talking. There was a time, she thought, when Kenshin would have been talking with them. Or at least listening to them. But he didn't look like he knew they existed, so constant and faded into the background as they were.

He was half-sitting against the wall, leaning a little over on his good side. Kaoru was beside him, holding onto his right hand. The left arm was curled to his chest, bandaged hand half-closed where it rested on his chest. Sano was dozing on the other side of Kaoru, Kenshin's pole set between them.

The rurouni was looking down on Yahiko, lying by his left side, his brow bunched up like he was trying to remember who the boy was.

Yahiko…wouldn't like that much when he woke up…if Kenshin didn't remember him.

"Himura?" she said, loud enough he could hear, but quiet enough she might not disturb Kaoru or Sanosuke.

Kenshin's eyes swiveled toward her, same expression in place as he studied her features.

Misao knelt in front of him and suddenly realized that she didn't know what she was going to say to him. She knew she had wanted to say something. Maybe just to be nearer to him, now that he looked a little cleaner and the signs of abuse and neglect were covered with a little borrowed clothing, making it easier to look at him.

"…don't you think you should get some sleep?" she said at last. She felt a little silly, and added, "You know…we've got a lot of walking to do tomorrow, and…" She stopped miserably, not even knowing if he understood.

She started when he reached out and patted her head. "M-Misao," he said, smiling. "Misao-dono."

She smiled back at him. Incredibly, this, a familiar gesture of affection or approval she had received and seen others, like Yahiko, receive from him…it made the tension drain from her. At the same time, wet heat rose up behind her eyes, but she fought that part back. "Yeah, it's me, Himura. Um…" She hesitated, then went ahead and asked, "What's my last name?"

There was a very long pause as she stayed knelt there, his hand still on her head. His lips parted slightly, then closed. The hand dropped, and the edges of pained confusion began spreading over his face. He did not remember her last name.

Misao instantly regretted the question. "No, it's okay," she said hastily, holding up her hands. "Never mind the last name. I, uh…I don't need one anyway."

He smiled slightly at that, but he still looked a little hurt. Misao bit her lip. "You, um…go to sleep, okay?"

He seemed to consider this for a second, blinking slowly as he stared at her. "You too," he said finally. She liked the firm way he spoke this time.

* * *

Misao was gone. Kenshin couldn't remember her leaving exactly, but he did know she had been there.

He also didn't remember lying down, but he was. It wasn't at all comfortable for his head, but he liked the reassuring feel of Kaoru at his back, and the knowledge that Sanosuke was nearby. Aijo and Daisuke were somewhere near, too, and he could kind of hear their voices whispering to each other from somewhere.

He was facing the spiky-headed boy. He chewed at his lip, then reached forward slowly and placed his hand in the kid's hair. He closed his eyes. "Young one…Yahiko…"

No confirmation from anyone, but he knew he was right. He moved his hand from Yahiko's head and took his hand instead, trying to remember… _Was _it his fault?

The boy stirred. The light was miserably weak, but he could still see the color of Yahiko's eyes as the boy partway opened them as focused on his face. A slow, lazy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"_Found _you," the boy whispered hoarsely.

Kenshin tried to smile back, but Yahiko's eyes were closing again. He was slipping away.

But he squeezed Kenshin's hand before he went. Maybe it was a dream for both of them, but their hands were real and solid. So Kenshin held on.


	23. A Revealing Conversation

23  
A Revealing Conversation

There was something wrong with Aoshi.

Granted with how badly harmed Kenshin seemed to be, Saito was tempted to overlook a few small lapses on Aoshi's part by comparison. But he had not lived to the age he had reached by being unobservant.

But the lapses _were _small.

Once in a while Aoshi's eyes would unfocus, which Saito found particularly odd. Aoshi's gaze was always intense, a man who watched and listened and left excess talking to others. Which was a pleasant alternative to Himura Kenshin, who always felt he had to interject his own opinion into matters when a little shutting up and listening would do everyone a lot more good.

Aoshi's responses were also slower than what seemed normal. Not while they spoke. At least, not a first. But whenever there was a pause in their conversation, usually brought back around by Saito, sometimes Aoshi didn't answer right away, a slight pinch at the corners of his eyes. He had even, not once, but _twice_, politely asked Saito to repeat things he had already said.

Saito wouldn't claim to know Shinomori Aoshi well. But what he did know had been all that had been needed. Aoshi had brains, he was as competent as was possible for a man to be, he was honorable, and he was a skilled warrior. He was also less aggravating to speak to than anyone else here.

Saito didn't believe that Aoshi was behaving strangely, however subtly, because he was under stress. Every instinct he possessed said Something was Wrong.

And he was hiding it well.

Saito decided to leave it, since, aside from the tiny lapses, whatever it was didn't seem to affect him in his duties. Aoshi was alert, and there was nothing wrong with his movements or reflexes. There were a great many things that needed Saito's more immediate attention.

But it did appear Aoshi needed an eye to be kept on him as well, on top of everyone else.

"Don't look directly at it," Aoshi said, a little sharply, when Saito's eyes strayed to the mass of crystals and glass on strings than Aoshi still held in his lap.

Saito complied, averted his eyes and did his best to study the thing through peripheral vision as best he could.

The hot spring was a comfortable distance away, the two of them sitting where it was easier to breathe without the steaming heat, but close enough they could hear the others. Not far enough away, in Saito's opinion.

"What did you say it was?"

"Penna Tan said that it is called the Shortsifter. It's a small contrivance compared to its counterpart. The Mindsifter is on a much greater scale."

Saito thought of Kenshin again as he had first seen him. At first, he had not known him, in spite of what his senses told him. He looked like a child, shivering in the arms of an old woman. Then, when he stood up, Saito could see him better, but still almost didn't believe when he saw his face. The eyes were unfamiliar. The same large size, the same color, yes, but they were empty of rationality.

His _mind _was _gone_.

Somehow that one, solitary thought effected Saito in ways he didn't want to think about. And the obvious was _too _obvious for stating. To say or think there was something deeply evil within this island--and with claws that had been sunken into Japan for _centuries_, if Aoshi's accounts were to be believed, no less--would be as foolish as to observe that stars twinkled.

"How much did this Penna Tan tell you about the Mindsifter?"

Aoshi shook his head slightly. "A few things, but very little I can see to our advantage. It seems this Dadarusu from the legend was a living man once, a brilliant inventor, and ancestor to the Penna cousins. He came to understand he could manipulate a human mind with _eye movement_."

"Eye movement," Saito repeated.

"Yes. Penna Tan explained that these "Patterns" are meant to make the eyes move in certain ways, and some are not only designed for eye movement, but for auditory stimuli as well, which Dadarusu found to have effect on the mind. The victim is forced to simply notice what happens before their eyes. Some Patterns result in a deep hypnotic state so that suggestions can be put directly into the victim. A few of those are found on the Shortsifter. But more complex Patterns, such as those of the Mindsifter, can be used to make a man's mind destroy itself."

"The mind destroys itself?"

"At suggestion, so the Penna boy said," Aoshi said. His voice was dull, sort of droning. This was not entirely out of the norm for him, but…Saito wondered.

"How did you come to be here?" Aoshi said then, a little too quickly. Saito had the feeling that this was a deliberate change of subject, but he let it slide in favor of answering.

He said, "Do you have any idea how much sleep Chief Uramura gets these days?"

Aoshi blinked. Saito didn't wait for an answer.

"Very little. I got tired of passing his children outside his office, begging him to come home and get some rest."

Uramura had thrown himself into the search for Himura Kenshin every bit as vigorously as the rurouni's friends had. Actually, it was down right irritating that the three of them that haunted the dojo could take on such attitudes that _they alone _were the only ones who thought of Kenshin, that _they alone _were the only ones who were looking. They seemed to be of the belief that they were more capable than the police.

On the one hand, Saito might admit that even the boy Yahiko was a more reliable fighter than most in the police force, but that bearing, though completely unvoiced, was still irksome. Kenshin's friends--at least those particular three--seemed to believe that they were still all alone in the world. Or even, it was them _against _the world.

Saito could almost grin at the irony of this self-inflicted isolation. And it was possible they didn't even realize it.

Be that as it may, there was an extensive, and exhaustive, search by Uramura, and he was pulling all his resources and working long nights. It was a little bit of an exaggeration if Saito said he was sick of seeing the chief's children at the police station or on the way past the marketplace. They came often, but not every day. Uramura did go home to sleep, he ate well, and he observed his other responsibilities. But he worked hard trying to get a lead on Kenshin, who had along with his abductors vanished off the face of Japan, so it seemed. The chief felt he owed Kenshin something.

Perhaps he did.

_Saito _didn't owe him anything.

Yet he found himself in those early days looking for a trail anyway. He was curious, more than anything, about people and their bizarre weapon that could effortlessly render helpless the former hitokiri. There was wariness of a challenge as well, because Saito wasn't quite arrogant enough to believe he would be immune to this weapon where Kenshin was not.

But there had been no trail, nothing that even the Oniwabanshu's talents could uncover. Kenshin was gone, and time passed without him everywhere else in the world except the Kamiya dojo.

It was only logical to believe he was dead. Uramura was just stubborn enough that he wasn't going to call off the investigation until they at least came up with a body. Kenshin's friends would not be willing to believe he was dead unless presented with a corpse either.

And then, a breathless young woman-doctor had come to the police station in the wee hours of the morning with news, a new lead that Kenshin's headstrong friends had already run off to see for themselves.

"_Your _trail was easy to pick up," Saito said. He started to reach for one of the cigarettes in his breast pocket, but dropped his hand instead with a grunt of annoyance. He didn't think he would be able to buy anymore cigarettes any time soon. Best to ration the ones he had. "Especially since you kept leaving posters of Battousai wherever you went."

Aoshi shrugged slightly, as though to say the flyers certainly weren't _his _idea. "So you followed us to this island?"

Saito nodded, still wanting that cigarette. "The entrance is…" He trailed off, not really ready with the adjectives he needed to precisely describe what he thought of the entrance. "There should be another way in and out of this island. From what you say, this Penna family has trafficked prisoners into this island for a long time. I have a hard time believing this was done by a firepit over a pool of water."

"There is no way back up," Aoshi agreed, deadpan.

Again, Saito looked at Aoshi sharply. Again, he almost asked the younger man if he was all right.

Again he chose to mind his own business.

Still…

"Shinomori. What was Penna Tan's reason for giving you the Shortsifter and giving you information? You were an enemy. Even if he was dying, why tell you anything?"

Aoshi was quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. He said, "I think he wanted to help Kenshin."

"And what sense does that make, if he and his cousin went through such lengths to harm him?

"According to the others, Penna Tan protested what he was doing to Kenshin from the moment he set foot into their home. It seems he was subservient to his cousin, a conditioning of the Mindsifter. To make up for the hierarchy that should have been in Dadarusu's house to begin with, with Ikarusu the son above Taro, perhaps, since those are the roles these two cousins have had to fill.

"But that's not really all." Aoshi frowned deeply, twisting one of the Shortsifter's prisms absently (and maybe a little unwisely) in his hands. "I think he believed that Kenshin can somehow save his cousin. He said that he believed Penna Hikaru wasn't beyond all hope of redemption. He said it strangely though…he said…"

Aoshi's expression became strangely distant again. Several seconds passed, and Saito had just opened his mouth to prompt him when he spoke again on his own. "He said that he believed that Kenshin could help his cousin fly."

Saito snorted, but Aoshi's expression seemed to suggest he didn't believe it was ridiculous at all.

"Penna Tan was speaking in metaphors while he died," he said. "I don't think he believed in true flight. But Kenshin is…good at saving people."

Saito glanced in the direction of the hot spring, still concealed by shadow and rocks. "Do you believe that wretched shadow of Battousai is capable of saving anyone?"

As harsh as the words were, Saito had not quite meant for them to come out so scathingly, the sentiment behind it closer to his own feelings on what had been done to his old enemy than as a true slight to either Kenshin or Aoshi.

His face was still turned away, so that he wasn't looking at Aoshi when the younger man said, "He can overcome this."

He sounded so certain, but when Saito locked eyes with him again, he froze at the shadow of true, cold fear that passed over the okashira's features. It was nothing more than that: a shadow. And it was gone instantly. But Saito had seen it.

"Shinomori--"

"_I have to believe he can overcome this_," Aoshi blurted, the inflection of his voice sharp against the lackluster tones of before.

Then, realizing he had perhaps said too much, Aoshi got up quickly, stuffing the Shortsifter back into his jacket with no apparent care for the device or how tangling it could make the Patterns unusable. He strode quickly out of the light of Saito's lantern, mumbling that he needed to see Misao about something before she went to sleep.

Saito watched Aoshi's retreating back, with no need or desire to stop him.

Saito did not lie to himself often enough that he wouldn't deny that he would rather be eating hot soba at his favorite stand than trying to find his way in this subterranean hell. The soba stand, he mused dryly to himself, was the one that was in the open sun.

If any suspicions he was forming about Aoshi were true, and with Kenshin as he was, then it might be the only reliable fighter left would be Sagara Sanosuke.

"Wonderful," he murmured aloud, rubbing at the bridge of his nose to ward against a forming headache.

He stood up and picked up the lantern, turning down the flame low to conserve fuel as he began to pick his way around fallen rubble toward the others, who by now were all finished bathing and finding a place to settle down for sleep.

This would _definitely _be the last time he let his benevolent nature get the better of him.

* * *

Author's note: 

_We are still Quite Some Ways to being finished. _(-grin-) _Just to let you know. You'll still not be seeing the end anytime soon._

_This is the conversation Saito and Aoshi were having while the others took advantage of the little hot spring. Presented this way because it seemed to work better than my original plan. I will make up for any pains of Kenshin-withdrawal with the next chapter, I think._

_I had several inquiries on the whereabouts of Hiko and Megumi. They'll…be along soon. _;)


	24. Spectacular Error

24  
Spectacular Error

The young doctor fumed, ignoring the way people jumped to get out of her way and started at the stream of unladylike language that fell from her mouth in sporadic intervals.

To hell with them all anyway. Where the _hell _was that damn man?

She was at the point where she was refusing to believe that he had been the man who brought up Kenshin. There was no way it could possible be true. Arrogant, taciturn, abandoning bastard! Kenshin was sweet and kind and thoughtful, and considerate, nothing at all like her jerk of a traveling companion.

Full of far too much nervous rage to sit still, Megumi kept making the short walk between the inn where she and Hiko had stayed the night before and a small jail where Oaka was being kept temporarily. It was safe enough to say now that this labyrinth within an island was finally being treated with proper seriousness, and for that she was glad. Even Chief Uramura had seemed a little skeptical with the idea that something like that could have existed for years outside of anyone's knowledge.

It was rather farfetched, but it was true. Megumi had no doubt now, and neither did Kenshin's master.

And Hiko, who was a rather large and powerful man, had been very angry about the things he had learned. Megumi had seen the look on his face. She had seen Kenshin cast some powerful glares, but this man's gaze was superior even to the rurouni's. By the time Hiko had finished extracting any information he thought of use from Oaka, the man wasn't in such good shape, most of the damage emotional from what she could tell of the nose-wrinkling scent near a man who had wet himself in terror.

He deserved it, and anyone who said otherwise could get the same treatment. It wasn't right for her, not only a doctor but a friend of one of the strongest men of mercy she had ever known, to think such things, but…

Terrible enough to hear of the things that were down in this hell Oaka had described in fits and bursts through the increasing pressures of Hiko Seijuro's promptings. Terrible, terrible things, a mechanism that destroyed minds, destroyed lives, a bloodline of people cursed as its caretakers, boys who tried to fly with homemade wings…

…and this _absurd _revenge on hitokiri Battousai!

Megumi leaned against the outer wall of the jail, eyes filling with tears. She had never once considered that the worst punishment ever inflicted on Kenshin for his actions back then would have been for the mistake of kindness.

So, then, neither had Hiko. There was little more to learn from Oaka, though there had been important things. The others had indeed found their way into the labyrinth, and had caused such an uproar that the labyrinth's master had unleashed an army of some sort that Oaka called minotaurs. Megumi was as glad they were there as she was worried. They could be in danger, but she prayed that they had found and were protecting Kenshin.

Kenshin… She would get on her knees and face for her prayers if she thought it would help make the things said by Oaka less true. The images of him crawling and lost and crying and bleeding and broken couldn't leave her mind any more than the smug tone the kidnapper had used when he thought he had a chance to defend himself, before Hiko had shown him, in no uncertain terms, that he was _not _amused.

In fact, for a while, Megumi had thought Hiko was going to kill him. And while she wouldn't have shed a tear, she would still have had to protest…

He didn't, though. She wouldn't ask why. It didn't matter. Besides, not all of the things, if any, that Oaka said about Kenshin's condition could possibly be true. She was confident in that. That was her Ken-san, strong in body and mind…

And yet…Oaka had not taken one thing that he said about Kenshin back, not even when he pissed himself. They really had hurt Kenshin somehow.

Hiko believed it. She could see that.

Oaka was left with the small police force, not good for much. Incredible how Hiko had so incapacitated him without laying one hand on him.

Then the damned fool ran off, barely sparing the half a second it took to tell her that he would 'be back soon'. The phrasing, if not the tone of the words themselves, reminded her of Kenshin.

_Damn _him!

She turned on her heel, frightening a short man carrying a sack on his back with her glower as she stomped past him. She was really wearing down a path between the inn and the jail, but right now she just couldn't seem to care.

She did, though, hear a loud groan through the thin walls of the jail, and felt a little better.

Ken-san would probably notapprove of what she had done. But it was his fault, and Hiko's, for leaving her here all alone with nothing better to do. Oaka looked so pasty that she thought that a good dose of European cascara might do him a world of good. The policemen probably weren't too happy about it at the moment; either that or they were having a good laugh if they could ignore the smell. Oaka was probably willing to tell anyone absolutely anything for a clean pair of hakama right now. And no permanent harm done, of course. In fact, he'd feel nice and clean and fairly accomplished right about now.

Hiko could call her a shrew all he wanted, but at heart this lady-doctor was still a vixen. And right now, she was wrathful enough that he would be lucky not to find a dose of the same in his sake jar when he got back.

* * *

Yahiko's back was cold. His front was warm and toasty.

Weird.

Instinctively, he curled a bit, trying to get warm all over. His brow twitched as he snuggled into something warm and soft. Someone. Oh, he must have rolled into someone while he was sleeping.

He opened his eyes to see whose personal space he invaded. Dim light revealed a smooth chin, slightly parted lips. The boy's gaze rolled sluggishly upward, stopping when it reached a cross-shaped scar on the otherwise smooth face, drowsy eyes opening to see what was amiss.

"Oh…sorry, Kenshin," he murmured absently, starting to roll away. Kenshin pulled him back, an arm coming around his back to pull him closer.

"Stay, Yahiko," Kenshin said, voice hoarse with sleep. Yahiko could see his breath in the air. "I-it's cold. St-stay put."

Okay. Reasonable. Couldn't deny it was cold. Best to stay together for warmth. Back to sleep now…

His eyes snapped open, jaw slackened. Kenshin felt him stiffen and opened his own eyes again as well.

"Ken…shin?"

"Hm?"

"Kenshin!" Without thinking, Yahiko threw himself forward, locked his arms around Kenshin's neck. "_Kenshin_!"

"Urk? O-oro!"

"I thought I was dreaming! You're here, you're alive, you're all right! We found you!" Yahiko paused to take a deep breath. No tears, not yet. Not yet. Almost, though.

Yahiko scanned his friend over. He looked like he had an injured hand, and his face was so thin, but it was nothing like he imagined. Oh, after so many nightmares, so many fears of finding Kenshin tortured and broken in chains or his half-decayed corpse in a forgotten shadow in this god-forsaken hell, it was such a relief that he was mostly all right. Of course he would be. If anyone could find a way to survive here, it would be him. He just had a little trouble finding a way out was all. Yahiko wouldn't be too mad about that just yet. It was a labyrinth, after all.

Kenshin hugged back a little, a slight, sad smile on his face. "Ya-Yahiko?"

"Yeah?"

"Th-this one…" Kenshin hesitated, eyes wide and uncertain. "Couldn't st-stop it happening. Ah…"

He seemed to have more to say, mouth opened around words that didn't quite come forth. What could he be having so much trouble saying?

"It's okay, Kenshin. I know you couldn't stop them from taking you. I've had that thing used on me twice, and I couldn't even blink. But it's okay now--"

"_No_." Kenshin squeezed his eyes shut, brought his uninjured hand close to his face and violently balled his fingers into a fist. "Please. Listen and…and n-not talk. Yahiko. It's…it's harder now. To talk. Please. Just…listen. Yes?"

Worried now, Yahiko watched Kenshin face as he spoke, and indeed it did seem like speech was difficult for him. Yahiko looked him over again, trying to see if he had any injuries of the throat or mouth. Maybe…his voice was awfully hoarse.

"Got…very hurt," Kenshin said. He paused, and then locked eyes with his young friend. "Tried…to fight. Did badly the f-first times. Last time…so much b-better. F-fought better. Got less…less hurt. A little, not as much."

Yahiko slowly shook his head, not understanding at all. He did see Kenshin had no throat injury that he could see. Again, his dark eyes passed over Kenshin's form. He didn't seem very badly hurt. He needed very much to gain some weight and he looked like he needed a good long rest, but… What was he missing? Maybe there were infected injuries under his clothes or something.

"Kenshin, I don't--"

"Injured here." Kenshin tapped his temple. "Here."

Yahiko felt morbid horror rise up through his chest and spread over his face. He saw Kenshin's eyes sadden to see it.

"D-don't…please…don't be ashamed of this one. Can get better…get better…" He shut his eyes, but not before Yahiko saw the tears forming at the corners. "So stu-stupid…so stupid right now… Sorry. So sorry. Couldn't stop it h-happening."

"Oh…" Yahiko's mouth made the sound without consulting his brain. Then the sound kept falling from his lips, and he couldn't stop. "Oh…oh…oh…_oh_…_oh_…" God. God! _God_!

And Kenshin looked afraid. Afraid! And confused, drawing back a little. Yahiko snagged his shirt--Sanosuke's jacket--and buried his face in it--be _damned _if he'd let Kenshin get away again, but he just couldn't…

Hesitantly, Kenshin's hand came around and started to clumsily rub his back. "Sorry…Yahiko," he whispered.

He couldn't hold the dam any longer. Months of frustration, rage, worry, and helplessness poured out. Just when he thought the injustice was as unbearable as was possible...

"Idiot! Fool!" Yahiko hissed brokenly into the fabric of the jacket. "How could you ever think I'd be ashamed of you?"

Never. Never in this life.

And they'd pay. They would pay for this. One way or another, someone would answer for this.

Then, all at once, Yahiko _was _ashamed, but ashamed of himself. Ashamed of thoughts of revenge Kenshin would never approve of. Ashamed that after all this, he was still 'borrowing' from Kenshin, quivering against him for comfort when he should have been strong, to be a comfort instead of the comforted.

He didn't know there were tears on Kenshin's face, and some on Kaoru's as well, and suspicious moisture in Sano's eyes. The two of them, he hadn't noticed, only just behind Kenshin. Here again, the world had become remarkably small, and the walls had closed in so narrowly.

And nobody denied it. For this, someone had to answer.

* * *

A decision had been made to leave Aijo and Daisuke in a residential cave they discovered.

Everyone except Kenshin, including the old couple themselves, thought this a very sound idea. The residential cave had escaped notice of the minotaurs because it was accessed by a steep slope leading up to a small hole that most of the minotaurs would have been too big to fit through even if the little hole wasn't almost completely concealed by shadows. The people inside were cleaner and more sane than the last one Kenshin's group had seen, most of them being as Aijo and Daisuke, simply bereft of all memory of their lives before the Mindsifter.

It was also one of the last places to receive a fresh delivery of food and supplies before Penna Tan's death, so the people holed up there would last for a time by staying together and keeping quiet.

Kenshin didn't want to leave his friends behind. He was so upset by the idea his speech fell apart so that nobody could understand a word he said, which only frustrated him more. Finally, the old man grew stern, like a father who wanted to ward off a temper tantrum from a normally well-behaved son, and led Kenshin aside with Aijo.

Kenshin was in unusually high focus, but it was focus on only one thing. He had even forgotten his ever-present need to have Kaoru near, leaving her with the others as he was pulled aside by the elderly couple.

"Kenshin," Aijo began, but Kenshin cut her off.

"We can't leave you b-behind!" he said angrily. "What if we can't find you again? What then? Th-this is a bad idea!"

"Kenshin!" Daisuke said sharply, and the young man flinched.

Aijo's own temper flared. "Don't yell at him, you old fool," she hissed. "You're not helping him understand!"

Daisuke sighed deeply, and then tried again. Reaching out, he gripped Kenshin's upper arms, softening his features. "Kenshin, look at me," he said, and waited for the small redhead to comply before he went on. "You've come such a long way since Aijo and I first met you. Did you know how proud we are of you?"

Kenshin blinked, his eyes wide.

Daisuke smiled gently. "You're so strong, Kenshin. All of your friends here are strong as well. We _believe _that you and your friends will get us back to the sun again. We believe that you can fight your way out of this hell and put an end to this all once and for all.

"But, Kenshin, Aijo and I are old, and this place is more dangerous than it ever was before with those…things…wandering around down here. And the roof is caving in everywhere. It would be better if we waited here with these other people. We can't tough it out like you young ones can."

"_No_," Kenshin insisted. His good hand gripped back at the old man. "No, Daisuke-dono. I…I can protect you. That's what I _am_. He c-couldn't take that away from me! I can still fight!"

Abruptly he found himself enfolded in the old woman's arms. For some reason, it came to him that this was the first time he realized Aijo was a little taller than him. But then, most people were, it seemed.

"Kenshin, we know you can fight. And you've protected us lots of times, so we know you can do that too. But what you really need to do now is help your friends to find a way out of the labyrinth. That way, you won't only save us, but you'll save everyone here in the labyrinth that can still be saved. Don't you understand?"

Kenshin thought about that for a moment, leaning his head on the old woman's shoulder. Yes...there were lots more people, good people, besides Aijo and Daisuke who had lived in the labyrinth for a long time. Back when he was even less than he was now, Aijo and Daisuke's wasn't the only light he had looked in on. Theirs weren't the only mouths that coaxed him close, theirs not the only hands that offered food. He could remember no other faces, but he knew there had been others, even with so little already, who had been willing to help him. Here was the chance to help them in return.

Yet... "I understand," he said softly. "But I don't like it just the same."

Aijo laughed and Daisuke chuckled along with her. The old man, too, moved in to give Kenshin one last, affectionate hug. "Good," he said. "You keep not liking it. That means that you will get out of here, and once you have you'll come back for us."

So two friends were left behind, and Kenshin went away with his own people. His throat was tight, but his spirit was coming back, little by little. It _had _to, because people were believing in him.

* * *

In spite of leaving Aijo and Daisuke behind, the others still concerned Kenshin. A glum group, they all were, and he had discovered that he could alleviate this a little by acting very cheerful.

He first gained the idea in dealing with Sano, who had never failed to smile back when Kenshin grinned at him. In fact it was such a familiar thing, like something he'd always done. It was easy too, to put on a cheerful smile and keep it going, maybe softly hum to himself, bouncing on his toes a little.

It was easy, but used up a lot of energy. It made his arm ache and he stumbled on his bad knee a little more often. But it seemed worth it, when the worried expressions on his friends' faces seemed to ease away, and their own smiles looked genuine. Kaoru and Yahiko in particular seemed to grow more cheerful as well the longer he kept it up.

Sano was not so fooled, though. Kenshin looked at him often, trying out his charm, but only discovered Sanosuke seemed to react well to him only when there were 'real' smiles to show. In fact, Sano sometimes frowned at him now. Not angry, Kenshin decided, but not fooled either, and a little concerned as well.

Maybe that was all right? Maybe that was as it should be?

He thought so. Sano was…perceptive.

And he liked that. He looked again at Sano, and smiled once more. But this time he let what he felt show. Sano had to know. To know he was so glad to be back with the people to whom he belonged.

Sano saw it. Sano smiled back.

* * *

Aoshi first had his doubts about the bridge the first time he saw it, when they were walking _under_ it. The way up wasn't so high. In fact, on a day of fair energy, Aoshi considered that someone as good a jumper as Misao could have taken the rolling ledge in three jumps.

But then the path they walked twisted, a man-carved slope leading them up higher and higher again until they had come back to the bridge, this time before it.

It looked old, a construction of simple wood. There were words in both Japanese and Greek carved in it, all graffiti, and standing on the edge below Aoshi could see what a thin stone wall had hidden from him when they had first walked below the bridge. The chasm went down further than the light of Saito's lantern and their filched torches allowed them to see, and there was a muted roaring from somewhere very far down. Water was running down there, somewhere.

Aoshi looked over the group, frowning at the nagging feelings somewhere in the back of his weakened mind. Unsurprisingly, the Kamiya group had permanently closed themselves around Kenshin like a cocoon. Kenshin had worn himself out a long time ago, and was sleeping once again on Sanosuke's back, his right hand still holding onto Kaoru's. The boy Yahiko was never far, and always had his shinai in his hand, looking sullen, angry, and haunted.

Misao was at Aoshi's side as always. Saito seemed to think it best to hang back, and it probably was since Kenshin didn't recognize him most of the time and didn't react well when he did. An introduction had once been attempted and hadn't worked out as far as Aoshi could remember...and he _couldn't _remember very well. Just the vague sense that they had decided to give it up for now. That Saito was both Dangerous and Enemy had been too deeply ingrained into Kenshin's instincts for his destroyed logic to grasp the idea that the Wolf was not here to fight and had no intention of harming his friends. That would have to come later.

Well, the bridge was fine. It was old, but it was in good repair. Different people had found amusement by carving their names or crude sayings and other bits in the banisters and planks, but the construction couldn't be faulted. It was perfectly sturdy as they began to march across it. So what was the problem? What was bothering him?

He was feeling partly foolish and partly relieved when they reached the other rocky side of the bridge. That was, until he heard a faint snort from the mouth of the tunnel before him, and then saw the dull glint of a lifeless eye as a stray flicker of torchlight briefly brought sight a little into the tunnel.

Too late, he realized the bit of wisdom that was eluding him...

A bridge like this... It was a damn fine place for an ambush.

Aoshi's hand felt stiff as he moved it closer to his swords, stunned at his stupidity. Surely _Saito _had known this--sensed them some time before?

He knew better than to try to turn around and see, though Misao, always close by and always watching him, looked at him questioningly, and then hardened her features into alertness.

And a good thing, as well, because the first minotaur rushed out at him in silence, forcing him to throw up a blade in defense.

And it _was _defense, Aoshi realized in shock. His sword flashed and darted as swiftly as ever it had, but it was all in a desperate effort to keep the madman's steel from striking him. It was not for the first time in his life he had faced someone faster than himself--Kenshin had once had that honor--but Aoshi had not expected such disciplined steel to come at him from these shadows. Slashes of incredible speed forced him back, and other minotaurs surged around him. He swore out loud, mind wild to know how Misao was faring, but he couldn't take his eyes off his opponent to look for her just now. Snarling, his worry for the girl and, somewhat more distantly, the others, won out, and he gambled, continuing the motion of a block with a smash of his fisted hilt to the minotaur's vulnerable neck beneath the bull mask.

The minotaur was thrown back, but before Aoshi could either turn to look for Misao or step forward to follow up his attack, another was on him. Aoshi met him, and sparks were struck as steel wove a deadly lace between them. The former okashira felt rage so before contained he had not even noticed it come forth--at the Penna cousins, at the Mindsifter, at the Shortsifter that had done him such damage, rage all the way back to a Grecian madman who had thrown his nephew from a high building and told his son he could fly--and he felt it pour into his next attack, refusing this time to yield a step. Abruptly a slicing blow of his sword sheared through flesh and bone, but even as it did, he was forced to jump back to avoid a decapitating stroke.

Landing on guard and ready to continue, Aoshi felt the hair on the back of his neck stir. His last blow had stopped his opponent--and indeed it should have, as the sword the minotaur had been using now lay on the wood of the bridge with the hand that had gripped it--but it was obviously only a temporary halt. The expressionless bull's mask and lifeless eyes did not so much as glance at the severed wrist. Aoshi seized the moment as best he could, taking a slow step sideways and turning his head slightly to allow his peripheral vision and his hearing to pick up Misao and the others fighting somewhere not far behind him. It was all he had time for, but enough to bring him a measure of relief that they were holding their own. Then the murderous assault began anew.

In a smooth movement, the minotaur produced another sword from the back of his belt, and if he was accustomed to fighting with his right hand, he seemed little less able with the left. Aoshi met each lightning stroke, but his own double-blades were met as well. Then, the severed stump struck the side of his head with a force greater than he would have believed possible, flinging him back as though he were a child. He found himself down among a churning of stamping legs and bare feet, preoccupied in battle, but before he could rise, his attacker was on him. Desperately, Aoshi blocked a downward blow that would have split his skull. Aoshi grasped the hilt of the sword in his other hand, and thrust. The minotaur twisted like a serpent, the blade sliding across his ribs and then under them. As though his bones had melted, he collapsed atop Aoshi.

Quickly he heaved the body from him and sprang to his feet, weapons ready, fearing some trick after what he had seen with the severed wrist. But the downed minotaur did not move.

Aoshi thought again of the depths of the effects of the Mindsifter and could not suppress a small shudder.

Wrenching his thoughts back to what he was meant to be doing here and now, and raised his eyes for more opposition and froze again when he saw Kenshin coming toward him.

The injured rurouni was weaponless; a quick glance told Aoshi that the girl, Kaoru, had it, fighting almost back to back with the boy, both of them too engaged within their fights to notice Kenshin had left them. Sanosuke was helping Misao, yanking a smaller minotaur away from her and heaving him over the bridge before turning to catch a wide hammer swung at him, and Misao was on the defensive at the moment, dodging blows of a warrior nearly twice her size. Only Saito marked Kenshin's passage, but he didn't interfere, either because he was too busy fighting off his own swordsmen, or because he rightly thought he might do more harm than good.

The redhead made it around the fighting without drawing much attention to himself and Aoshi turned toward him, wondering if Kenshin would know him, and feeling somewhat irritated for the distraction.

Kenshin stopped just short of him, looking a little unsure. "...Aoshi?"

Aoshi nodded quickly, feeling as relieved as Kenshin looked. Then the rurouni stretched out his right hand to him and said, "Aoshi, lend this one _kodachi_."

"What?" Aoshi blurted, surprised into speech.

"Lend this one..." Kenshin repeated, flexing his fingers toward the swords again.

Aoshi opened his mouth, fully intending to refuse the request. Whatever reason that addle-brained girl had to take his stick from him to use for herself, he was much better off with that. Aoshi did _not_ think it would be helpful for Kenshin's damaged mental health if Aoshi allowed him to break his oath by giving him a cutting sword now.

But the words died on his lips as Kenshin smiled then, spreading his fingers as if to ask for trust.

"Please, Aoshi. There are things that can't be accomplished with a stick."

Aoshi swallowed hard, eyes still locked with Kenshin's gentle ones. He looked and sounded so much like himself...

He tightened his grip on the _kodachi _held in his left hand once, then offered it to the redhead, praying all the while he wasn't making a spectacular error.

"Thank you," Kenshin said, polite and grateful as he ever was, as if he had things under control...and then he was gone, darting back the way he had come on a limping run.

Into the fray again was the logical place for Aoshi to be as well, but a terrible numbness gripped him as he watched Kenshin move, avoiding the points of conflict as best he could. He seemed to have a goal in mind.

Then he stopped as two bullish faces turned toward him. Aoshi knew it couldn't be so, but he almost thought he could see the nostrils flaring along with the animalistic snorts the beastmen made.

Cursing himself, Aoshi took two steps forward, wishing he hadn't given Kenshin the sword, wishing that he had _followed_ him at least. Even if he made a sprint for it, he'd never make it in time... Kenshin...would he slash them?

Kenshin's knees bent slightly, and then he sprang from the ground. The jump was weak, Aoshi could see, because he was using power from only one leg, but it did carry him over the heads of the minotaurs. His landing some distance away from them required the use of his bad hand, thrusting it out before him to steady his weight on the stone floor.

It had to be very painful, Aoshi knew, as he watched Kenshin take only two seconds to rest on one knee with the tortured limb clasped to his chest. Then he was up and running again, gait even slower and far less steady than it had been before. But it was still movement with purpose.

He stopped in the middle of the bridge, and at the same moment Kaoru cried out to him, having finally noticed he was not under the protection of any contingency she had placed him under when she had taken his stick. He half-turned toward her, smiling gently, then raised his voice.

"_Kaoru-dono! Yahiko! Sano! Misao-dono! Get off the bridge!_"

Maybe it was the acoustics of this particular tunnel but his voice carried and boomed, drawing the attention of not only his friends, but the minotaurs as well. The two who had accosted Kenshin moments before moved toward him now. He didn't raise the sword to defend himself. Both Aoshi and Sanosuke took a few steps toward him, but they were stopped when Saito moved in front of them, holding up a gloved hand.

"Best to let him," he said in a low voice.

"Let him _what_?" Sanosuke demanded, his voice and body trembling in a way that made Aoshi believe that Sano _did_ know what Kenshin meant to do.

But Aoshi didn't understand until Saito pointed. Behind Kenshin, on the other side of the bridge, more minotaurs had come from the tunnels they had just passed, pouring out in a river of bodies, and this time Aoshi noticed the stench of rot from their masks followed them.

"The tunnel ahead looks narrow and there might be more of them there," Saito said calmly. "But the way we came is wide and choked with more than we can see. It's best to let him. No one can do it more quickly than he can and still jump to safety in time."

_What_? Unconsciously, Aoshi shook his head, drawing an odd look from Saito that he ignored for the moment.

Misao understood though, and grabbed at Kaoru, who had darted forward, the tendons of her face set like death.

"Yahiko!" the redhead called again, still not moving as the minotaurs surged behind him, and the boy started, knuckles white on the hilt of his shinai. Something passed between them, looking eye-to-eye.

"They won't die!" the boy burst out suddenly, addressing Kenshin. "There's water below!"

Kenshin smiled with relief, and raised the _kodachi_ and at the same time, Yahiko turned toward Kaoru, grabbed her arm and began pulling her the rest of the way off the bridge.

"He can do it, Kaoru. Look at his eyes! Believe in him. He'll be back over here in no time."

Sano was tense for another second, like he wanted to go after Kenshin, but in the end he began to take long, stiff steps backward. Misao touched Aoshi's arm to get his attention, and they too backed off the bridge.

What minotaurs on their side that weren't taken out in the initial fight before Kenshin's shout, looked momentarily confused, turning masked heads from their direction to Kenshin's, as if not certain who was posing the greater threat - the ones who were retreating or the small redhead holding a short sword above his head.

_Spectacular error? Or not?_

The sword was smaller than what Kenshin would be familiar with, but if anyone could manage he could. Most of the minotaurs were in the center now.

_They won't die! There's water below!_

It was then, as Kenshin flipped the blade and lashed it backward against the wood of the bridge at his feet, chunks and splinters flying, that Aoshi understood.

Most of the weight in the center. His insistence for them to get off. Too slow, too late, Aoshi understood.

Kenshin was dropping the bridge.

It didn't fall right away, and Kenshin had ample time to bend and spring like he had before. Aoshi felt his mouth open, though nothing came out. Kenshin's jumps, they weren't as powerful as they should be. Aoshi moved, running forward as the bridge collapsed, and the minotaurs mingled, making long bovine-like noises of dismay. He stretched out a hand, knowing Kenshin's jump would be short--

It was. The redhead's eyes were wide and distraught as his bandaged fingers grasped at empty air just a paper's width from Aoshi's, and then he was plummeting into darkness that rushed up to swallow him.


	25. Master Dragon

25  
Master Dragon

For an eternity, Kenshin could see nothing but white burst before his eyes. Pain stars that didn't go away until he made an effort to raise his right arm. It was heavy--still he gripped Aoshi's sword. Trembling all over, he set the blade between his teeth and then grasped the plank in front of his face to take some weight off his left arm. He didn't know how far he was from the bottom, and couldn't muster the strength to look. Only to hold on.

Yes. That last jump had been very badly off. But at least he'd been able to catch himself on what was left of the bridge dangling from this side.

He giggled, a little hysterically to himself, and then tried to fight renegade laughter. He _needed_ to keep what shredded wits he still had about him just now. Kaoru would be furious enough as it was. He'd never be able to do enough chores to make up for this.

Blood from his left hand tickled down his arm, tickling the underside. Now he had blood on Sano's jacket too. If he couldn't wash it out, maybe Sano would accept a new one...

He could hear the others up top, the jumbled sounds of them. He wished he could call out, but he hadn't forgotten Aoshi's sword in his teeth. It had to be returned... He felt his thoughts shiver, his mind shrinking back from the situation.

_No, no, no. Keep sane, keep sane, keep sane...!_ _Focus! Focus--!_

Swallowing hard, Kenshin rolled his eyes up to the shadowed ceiling and began to mentally check off all the chores at home he thought he could do one-handed for a while.

He raised his bandaged hand, dug his fingernails into the wood, and began to climb.

There was loud creaking and swaying with the movement. He took a deep breath through his nose, and thought that he could maybe _try _to do the laundry with only one hand…

The wood splintered under his palms, gave away...

Then Kenshin heard steel.

He knew the sound very well indeed, and the loud grunt of effort that came with it. His head still managed to spin in the darkness with the sudden jerk that arrested his fall; something cold thrust between his skin and the back of Sano's jacket. He jerked from the sudden stop, the sound of fabric ripping loud and reverberating around him, along with the low but vicious curse from somewhere just above him.

There was a long point of stillness, except for his body quaking slightly, and there were shouts and other sounds from somewhere above. The voices and faces were jumbled in his mind and couldn't be matched together.

"I really," said a clipped, low voice near him, "thought that you could pull that off, Battousai."

He stiffened, and heard more ripping fabric.

"Hold still. I'm not following you any further down. If you fall, you fall."

"Hhh…hh...who is that…?"

No answer, at first. And then a very slight sigh. "Shut up and hold still."

The voice raised, trying to reach out toward the smaller voices further above, but Kenshin lost track of what was said as the echoes bounced the words together, the effort to follow the conversation making him a little sick, even more so than the fact that he was fairly certain he was dangling in midair and there was probably a good long drop below into more pitch darkness and a tumble of chaotic noises.

"Did you _hear_ that?" he was suddenly asked--or perhaps not suddenly after all, since the voice was bitten with impatience.

"W-what?"

Another exhalation, muffled like it was blown out through clenched teeth. The words were slow and loud. "We can't go back up. We have to find a way down after all."

Kenshin sucked in his breath. No. No, no. That was not right. Not right. Kaoru was _up_, and since it was with Kaoru that he was supposed to be, then _up_ was the only choice. There was no _down_.

Kenshin opened his mouth to explain this when her voice came to them, ricocheting off the walls that had once held the bridge between them, the untraceable movement as vicious as her tone.

"_Saito! SAITO!_ We're going to find our way down there, and when I get to you, if you've hurt or upset him, I'll _skin you alive!"_

He shut his mouth again quickly. First, because he was startled such a loud voice could come from a female chest. Second, because it seemed someone was going to be flayed if he got upset, and Kaoru didn't sound like she was being idle over the threat.

But wait...wait...

Did she say...

…_Saito...?

* * *

_

Finding solid ground again was an adventure. Saito found his native tongue lacking in obscenities to describe his frustration, and was forced to use a few borrowed from other languages, then begin making some up on the spot as he needed them when those ran out.

It was difficult enough for one to climb down the sheer face of a stone wall. Even more of a challenge when one is doing it in stygian blackness.

Trying to do it with a half-panicked, mentally retarded swordsman that did _not_ trust you was altogether far too much. No less than fifteen times in as many minutes Saito had decided to just drop him and see what could be collected of him later.

Drastic measures had to be taken, but perhaps not quite that drastic.

He held Kenshin out on his sword, listening to the unintelligible things the rurouni said as his words became jumbled in his disconcertion upon understanding that he was being dangled into space by Saito Hajime. Adjusting his weight carefully on the very narrow rock edge that had been supporting his weight this far, Saito carefully gauged where all parts of the smaller man were, including the good right hand that still held the borrowed _kodachi_, then swiftly and suddenly reeled him in, slamming a fist hard into his gut.

The rurouni lost his breath and went limp, and became then much more pliant. Saito slipped Aoshi's weapon through his belt and slung Kenshin over his shoulder, deciding he would have earned another cigarette fairly soon. The girl would be wanting his blood by now, but he couldn't very well get them both to safety if the fool was trying to fight him the entire time. And as for the blow to the stomach...well, he was simply reluctant to hit him in the head, not after all the damage that seemed to have been done in that area already.

But then, Saito wondered if a good blow to the head wouldn't actually help matters.

Not being able to see, the former Shinsengumi captain was forced to climb down the slow way, finding his way by feel and touch for hand and foot holds. After an hour of this slow going, he was even more viciously cursing the decision to dive after him in the first place. He should have obeyed his first impulse and grabbed the roosterhead and chucked _him_ into the chasm. If he caught Kenshin, fine. If not, good riddance to both of them.

Still, he had already been put through a lot of trouble so far just to let it end here.

The stone was getter more damp the further down he went, and he hoped that he was right in guessing where the outer ledge was. If he could find it, the others could meet up with them fairly easily. And if he couldn't, then the water below had to end somewhere. Either way, it had been impossible to get back up, not with the way the ledges were curved in. It had been an ideal place to build a bridge, but it could not be scaled.

Kenshin was showing signs of waking as Saito finally found an inner tunnel carved into the wall. It hadn't quite been what he wanted, and was probably going to complicate reuniting with the others, but it was better than Kenshin coming awake while they were still clinging to the wall.

Maneuvering inside was a challenge, but Saito was able to dump the confused rurouni onto the floor just as he began to struggle.

Kenshin moved away from him, Saito keeping track of him as he edged toward the wall, making soft noises of discomfort about the pain of his stomach.

"Saito?" he hissed.

"I'm not here to fight, Himura," Saito said softly, keeping at a unthreatening distance. "I'm not looking to fight," he repeated, in case it wasn't understood the first time.

Kenshin was quiet for a moment. Then he pointed out, "You hit me."

"You made that necessary," Saito countered dryly. But Kenshin seemed to be willing to ask questions first and attack later. And that was good. "Don't give me another reason, and it shouldn't happen again."

Kenshin was silent for another moment, then he asked, "Where is Sano?"

It was Saito's turn for a moment of silence. He had not expected Sanosuke to be the first person asked for, but then... He wouldn't ask for the girl if he was afraid, because in his mind, she was still someone he needed to protect. Sanosuke, though, he was someone he could rely on, depend on.

Snorting at the idea, Saito said, "He's--"

He stopped, and in the darkness and the space between them he felt Kenshin stiffen. Shuffling and snorting, from within the tunnel. Sounds that cattle made.

Saito took out a cigarette, struck a match to light it. The fire's glimmer did little more than reveal part of Kenshin's pale face, his right eye wide with fear.

"If I give you back your sword," Saito said, slowly and carefully as the match burned down the stick, "you will remember _they_ are the ones you are fighting?"

He didn't bother to cover his sarcasm, but he was serious as well.

Kenshin looked surprised, but nodded slowly.

Saito handed him the _kodachi_.

* * *

It was like a bad dream. Or like memories he wished he didn't have, even with so few left to him…

The details had become smudged. Most things were smudged, and then sometimes punctuated by sharp images.

Small things. Not the real things, happening now, but the memories. The sound a paper lamp makes when it falls to the ground, the candle sputtering out. The smell of its wax, easy to detect on a windless night. The glint of weak silver moonlight off a man's eyes, made bright and reflective by tears. The sound of steel hitting steel.

He felt sick and bare-nerved, but wasn't sure just why. The man he just now remembered, with blood and tears on his face seemed a sore and ragged spot in his memory that had nothing to the damage inflicted by the Mindsifter, but that wasn't quite all.

Saito was nearby, and Kenshin was careful to keep track of him, but in doing this, it was difficult to keep track of anything else, even when his remaining senses were assaulted. He had fought with less than this, he could remember being almost blind and almost deaf and barely able to perceive but the strongest of sensations, and still holding his own, fighting not for his life, but for someone he wanted to protect, but... Loud grunts, bellows, crashing, earth shaking. Suffocating, the tunnel seeming to close in. Something buried in his mind came awake and shrieked at him, unable to make itself heard at the noise.

A shadow appeared before him, great and looming. It wasn't Saito. Kenshin lashed out--

--the sword came back bloody. He knew this, but not because he could see it. He could barely _see _anything. But he knew there was blood because of the smell, the feel of it splatter on his forearm, the warmth of it. The shadow back off, making a noise of pain that was between a bellow and a howl, and Kenshin backed further into the wall, confused.

_Bleeding…bleeding...cut...

* * *

_

Saito heard the sharp, dismayed cry and was more annoyed than startled--though he was both. Kenshin was only at his heel and he batted away another blade of chipped, unsharpened steel before jerked back and reached out to grab the wrist of Kenshin's sword arm.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded, hoping the fool hadn't gotten himself injured so soon. The rurouni was pliant and unresisting as Saito jerked him out of the way of a falling hammer, sensed by the roar of effort and the whistle of wind. The world shook and stone chips flew, striking the side of Saito's face.

"It...it cuts!" Kenshin said, voice quavering.

Saito rolled his eyes. Just amazing. The smaller man had just gone from somewhat able to protect himself to completely useless in a matter of minutes. "Of course it cuts, fool. It's a sword."

Except some swords weren't made to cut, and those were the kind this moron used. Impatient and dangerously annoyed, Saito got a firmer grip on the back of Kenshin's shirt. There was a tunnel that led out of this one, found suddenly and completely by accident amidst the chaos. Saito didn't know where it led. He also figured it might disorient even his respectable sense of direction and make it that much harder to find the others, or at the very least, the exit. It was narrow enough they could be followed only by smaller minotaurs, but at least the ones with the great stone hammers would have to be left behind. For all that he knew, he could be walking into even thicker blackness and into a nest of them.

But his choices were to remain where he was and slaughter minotaurs until he was eventually boxed in by the close quarters and their sheer, uncountable numbers in the darkness, or to at least try to escape into a larger area. Any third option was welcome, but not forthcoming.

They encountered no resistance, Saito moving at a pace somewhere between a brisk walk and a jog, dragging Kenshin along unkindly. After another few minutes it became easier to see, though no less easier to hear over the sounds of stone hammers crashing against stone walls. Perhaps the minotaurs thought they could chip and batter a bigger hole so that the larger of their number could come through. Which was a ludicrous thought, since the tunnel was just as narrow for as far as they had come.

Then, the hammering stopped all at once, and Saito listened and strained his senses, but he could make out no sounds of nearby pursuit. And there _had_ been a number of those insane creatures who had been slight enough to follow easily.

This was most concerning. The minotaurs were very enigmatic. They seemed single-minded, but not _quite _mindless. Saito had not yet heard them speak, making only bovine-like noises and bellowing yells, and yet they showed discipline, fortitude, cunning, and skill with their weapons.

What was he running into that the minotaurs didn't feel they had to follow?

No choice. But there was light somewhere close by, as Saito realized his vision was returning. Torches were going to appear along the walls soon. He could smell oil and almost thought he could hear the slow-burning flames.

With returning sight and the new silence, Saito also began to hear Kenshin's mumblings. He had been going on for a while now, low and unintelligible, though Saito had been far too busy putting distance between them and the fight to pay him any mind other than to keep him close and moving.

Coming around a curve, there was light from the first torch in a rusted and crumbling sconce. This meant that these tunnels were inhabited enough that people regularly came to tend the lights. Stopping under the sconce, Saito grabbed a hold of Kenshin and forced the rurouni to face him.

Or at least turned his body toward him. All of Kenshin's attention was fixed on his right arm, and the small, drying blood spatters on the blade in his hand, mouth working with few understandable words finding their way to Saito's understanding.

Saito mouth thinned as his annoyance rose even further. He had been mixed into enough affairs with the rurouni of the Meiji--both by his own witness and by the later accounts of others--to come to the realization that even when whole in mind and body, a lot of Himura Kenshin's mental fortitude did come from the fact that his sword allowed him to battle and not slay. The fact that he had a proper front-bladed sword drawn and had cut someone, even though the hit had not been fatal, might have been detrimental even to the undamaged Kenshin's heart.

Still, Saito neither had the time nor the patience to deal with this in a gentle manner. Holding Kenshin firmly by his borrowed shirt, Saito raised his hand and slapped him soundly across the chops.

For several seconds, Kenshin just stared at the wall where his head had turned with the force of the blow, eyes wide with surprise. Saito waited to see what his reaction would be, and had just time enough to see the redhead's face twist into anger before he found the pommel of Aoshi's _kodachi_ buried in his gut. Saito's breath exploded outwards and he sprang back reflexively, a mirror to the way Kenshin jerked the opposite way and backed up a few steps.

"You hit me _twice_!" he snarled angrily, injured arm and sword brought up to his chest in a defensive posture. "Twice!" he repeated. "Do you want to fight, or _not_?"

Seeing him standing there, glaring and accusatory, face reddened in anger and ready to fight if Saito but said the word brought a smirk to the wolf's face, in spite of everything. "Not just now. We'll settle this later."

Kenshin seemed satisfied enough with this answer and, eyes still narrowed distrustfully, he began to look around.

There wasn't much to see. Darkness the way they came and a patch of darkness the way they were going that Saito hopefully assumed would lead to other lighted areas.

He watched Kenshin scan their surrounds, the smirk having long drawn itself into a deep frown. Seconds ago the redhead had seemed to be crumbling before his eyes, and now he seemed sharp-eyed and analytical, the fact that he might have nearly broke his vow forgotten. But this attitude was as single-minded as the one before. He obviously had no room in his mind for much, including his precious Kaoru, their ward, or his 'dependable friend'.

Saito wondered if the insides of his head were so messed up that no further damage could really be so noticeable, or if it was just that he had forgotten the incident so quickly. So easily swayed between oblivion and lucidity by jolts or mere distractions.

Then Kenshin said, "Which way are they waiting?", and Saito realized that perhaps he wasn't as single-minded as he seemed, nor had he forgotten as much as he thought.

Saito merely shook his head to the question. He honestly had no idea.

Kenshin's face went slack. "I l-lost them?"

Saito stifled a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired.

Truly, Hell could not be worse than this.

* * *

In any event, Saito didn't have to deal with any more violent mood swings, and Kenshin did not dissolve into a puddle of tears, though he looked close to it a few times.

The former Shinsengumi captain had plucked one of the newer-looking torches from the corridor, and with no better plan simply decided to keep where the signs of humanity were by following the lights. Kenshin followed behind him, a soft snuffling noise come from him once in a while, but calm and reasonable enough. He was upset, but at least he was being quiet about it.

He still held the _kodachi_. Saito had considered taking it from him, but some deep instinct warned him to just…let the balance, however precarious, continue. That he had a sword in his hand, Kenshin could feel, but wasn't paying any attention to in his distress over losing the others. He carried it, but his mind wasn't on it or its sharp edge. If there was danger, he would still have the means to defend himself. Saito could--and would--protect him to a point, but the opponents they had encountered so far fought in numbers.

It was incredibly risky, but if it was a choice of endangering his mental health or his life… And where his life was salvageable, his mental health was already devastated, possibly beyond repair.

Saito tried to shrug the thought off. It was a tangled way of thinking, and he had other things to concentrate on, such as his regret about coming down the firepit in the first place.

They came around another curve and the long, narrow tunnel finally revealed another direction other than straight on. An even more narrow, cylindrical tunnel that dipped sharply into inky blackness. The sound and smell of water drifting up to them, possibly leading to the stream where Kenshin had dropped the bridge and the minotaurs that had ambushed them.

Saito eyed the little hole thoughtfully, eyes lingering absently on Kenshin's head as the smaller man leaned close to the hole, eyes sad but curious as he, too, inspected it, though with not the same conclusions Saito had come to. This little tunnel looked like it was carved so that one could slide down it on one's belly, possibly for a drop into the water. Cold as that might be, Saito knew that the others would be trying to find a way to that very stream, trusting that Saito and Kenshin could be found along there, somewhere along there. That had been the plan, to try to find each other along the underground stream…

Still, this was a very small hole. Someone as slight as Kenshin could probably slide through without too much trouble, but Saito was not entirely certain that _he_ could. If he tried, he could see it would be a tight squeeze.

Both men froze at the long, low groan that cut through the air. Without further warning, the lights that would have lit the way where the glow of Saito's torch ended were snuffed out with a burst of powerful wind that hit the both of them with its icy blast.

Saito's fire only survived because he had the presence of mind to twist his body around and lift an arm to protect it, not willing to be in the dark if he could do something to prevent it.

He heard, then, the noises of cattle. The shuffling and groaning of herd animals. They were coming. They didn't have to come in the other way, if they knew a way around. The minotaurs would have lived their lives here. They knew their way around their territory. Either that, or these were a completely different herd of them. They all looked alike, wearing the masks.

Saito felt his left eye twitch, his annoyance coming to a peak. His eyes slid to Kenshin just as the first glassy-eyed bovine head appeared from the last of the shadows where the torches had gone out. Kenshin held the short sword at-ready, without even looking at it. His face was not narrowed into the customary battle expression, nor did he seem very frightened. Confused and concerned was more like it.

Chances were, he'd forgotten he was not holding his sakabato or a non-lethal stick in his hand and cut someone again and freeze or lose what was left of his mind again.

Again, Saito decided against taking the _kodachi_ from him; he could not leave him unable to defend himself. Yet to let him fight with it...

A vein stood out on Saito's temple as he realized how much of a circuit his thoughts had become. Besides, there was a third option.

Quite calmly, he laid the torch on the floor and reached out and snagged Kenshin, got a good grip on his collar and his hakama and _pitched _him smoothly into the little tunnel. The shocked cry was almost comical, but it was all the observation Saito had time for as he drew his blade in time to block the first charge, a stinking, rotting bull's face bearing down into his from across their locked blades.

He didn't know how many minotaurs were down the tunnel, but he did know that the tunnel was too narrow for more than one or two to attack him at once, with others crowding behind…it might take time to follow through the tunnel back to the river, if he could fit through it at all.

He hoped the little fool at least remembered how to swim.

* * *

As it turned out, the one who had designed this particular tunnel did not have the idea of the user of it falling into the river, but to slide out on his back or stomach to be deposited onto something soft and bunching beside a shallow side of the underground stream, like hay.

No one had ever put hay at the bottom of the slide, or else had not replaced the stone floor with anything soft to land on since the labyrinth was carved into the island. Either way, Kenshin slid out of the tunnel on his stomach, and his landing was on hard stone and smooth, water-polished rocks. Pain exploded on his chin and chest, breath knocked from him with the force.

Head spinning, he got to his knees quickly, got an arm under him to help him rise--and found himself looking into a pair of huge blue eyes, set in a frozen, withered face.

He scrambled back, slamming his back hard into the stone wall, thoughts awhirl with alarm.

It was a woman, and she had been dead for a quite a while. Something had been eating her, since only part of her body was left. Kenshin didn't examine what was missing closely, his eyes still locked with the lifeless ones.

She had blue eyes…blue eyes, just like--

"Kaoru-dono," he whispered aloud, clutching the kodachi to his chest.

Trembling with cold and fatigue he struggled to his feet and moved away from the body, closing his eyes against the missing limbs, the excavated stomach cavity. He hoped other people hadn't done this to her.

He was moving, shoulder close to the wall as a guide when he heard a faint noise behind him. He turned around quickly, heart pounding, half-remembered dreams of being attacked by corpses still fresh in his mind.

The sound had been made by the rugged toenails of a large silver wolf on the flat stone by the dead woman's body.

It was an eerie creature, missing an eye and part of an ear. Ragged with mange. Kenshin began to back away slowly, breathing hard through his nose, his knuckles white on the sword hilt. It followed him, moving as slowly and far more purposefully.

Eyes wide, Kenshin tried to think. Was it even real?

He hesitated, still backing away until his back met yet another wall. There was nowhere to run, except back to the freezing stream, he realized. And right now, he didn't think he could outrun a wolf even if there was somewhere else to go.

_Was _it real?

He raised the kodachi in front of him, too light and unfamiliar in his hand, eyes locked with the wolf's. He took a deep breath.

"S…S-Saito…?" he asked it.

No man's voice came from the animal this time. It cocked its head, yellow eyes that something within Kenshin understood. Kenshin looked small and weak and lame. He also looked and smelled warm and fresh and soft, not at all like the carrion it had been eating…

There was no reason to hesitate. Not for the animal.

The man, though, did, still not certain the wolf wasn't really Saito, or maybe even someone else, and in the next involuntary eye-blink, he felt himself slammed violently into the stone, the impossible weight of the beast on his chest. Whether it was truly an animal this time or only something his mind was telling him, the creature's intentions were to hurt him. Kenshin reacted. Injured arm thrown up to protect his face and neck, he managed to slam the hilt of the sword into the roof of the animal's mouth. Teeth put pressure on Kenshin's arm, little rivulets of blood forming to run down his elbow, but he kept the wolf head forced up and its mouth open.

The animal reacted to this unexpected resistance violently, jerked its head in an attempt to free it from this unorthodox pinning, and then began to rip and tear at Kenshin's belly and thighs with his hind legs, ripping open his clothing and skin with long, jagged nails.

He opened his mouth to scream and, on a violent whim of inspiration turned his head enough to shriek directly into the wolf's ear hole, with all the power of his lungs and throat. It jerked again, ears flattened in defense, but Kenshin kept the hilt shoved up into its mouth. The wolf viciously threw itself sideways, belly exposed for the same instant it was able to turn its head and free both its muzzle and Kenshin's arm. It was all the rurouni needed, the instant, the sword whirling in his grip, his arm coming down and then back again in an upward stroke, blade buried deep in the wolf's innards. Gripping the sword hard, he dragged until he struck breastbone and the beast fell away, dying as it hit the stone.

Kenshin lay for a moment, breath coming out in gasp and throat burning from screaming. Then he rolled onto his stomach and got his knees under him, shuddering and shaking, his gasps gradually becoming sobs.

_Please let it not be a man. Please…_

He looked again, but all it seemed to be was what it looked like: an old, scarred wolf misplaced deep in an underground labyrinth. Blood was all over Kenshin, a lot of it his own, a lot of it the animal's, and at the sight of it, for a moment his vision almost went white. He nearly accepted it, too; to sleep for a time and hope that he either woke up somewhere else or maybe even not at all, when a stray thought floated up to his attention.

_**Wolves hunt in packs.**_

He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and forehead, oblivious to the way he smeared wolf's blood across his face.

_What?_

_**Wolves. Hunt. In. Packs.**_

He stood up carefully, the wounds left by the wolf's claws and teeth stinging and burning. His breathing had gone from harsh to ragged and hurting as he spied yet another hunter, this one as bedraggled but far more shaggy than the last. Then another appearing behind it, and another coming from the nowhere of the shadows. There were noises behind him, possibly more wolves, but Kenshin didn't turn to see. Instead he closed his eyes. He had almost nothing left...

The image of Kaoru's face...no, many images of her, foremost and the most clear to his mind. She'd be terribly upset if he allowed himself to die here. He didn't really think she'd skin Saito alive, but the policeman probably would experience the full extent of her wrath. Didn't it seem almost fitting that one Wolf didn't know better than to throw him to more wolves?

Kenshin was about to settle what useful parts of his body were left into a fighting stance as the first animal leaped. Only his bad knee gave out on him at last, causing the stance to fail, and at that moment he might have only been able to get the sword into the wolf's gut as it sank its teeth into his neck had a dragon not suddenly imposed itself between Kenshin and the hunters.

It was a long, snaking fury and great white wings, all howling and wind and power. Wolves, no longer stalkers but victims frightened for their lives and enraged by the fact, attacked, but were shredded by claws.

If Kenshin had not been able to trust if his mind was telling him he was fighting wolves and not men, he certainly didn't know if he could believe there was really a dragon fighting them now. Movements jerky and mechanical, Kenshin began to push himself backward on the stone floor until he was stopped by a wall. Frozen there, his heart thumped in his ears, blood tingling through his skin and temples, through the burning wounds, but he felt almost detached from the sensations, like they were as unreal as everything else...

One of the wolves had chosen to flee, and the dragon didn't pursue it, instead turning slowly to cast fury-slanted eyes on Kenshin. Almost not of his own accord, Kenshin shut his own eyes to block it out, but he could still feel the presence moving toward him, the shadow that cast over him somehow colder than any other around him.

He waited in the shadow; all that he could hear was the thud of his heart and his labored breathing. Something large and heavy dropped on his shoulder and gripped and he gasped, curling into himself, images of wolves being torn apart by claws of steel exploding behind his eyelids.

But there was a voice somewhere very nearby. A man's voice. He struggled to grasp the words, finding his own name said many times until at last...

"Kenshin. Kenshin. _Kenshin_. It's me. It's _me_." The voice rose an octave in hard authority. "Kenshin, look at me!"

His head felt impossibly heavy, a struggle to lift it. Lift it to a familiar face. Sharp, handsome and deeply masculine features, framed by the foolishly long and gravity-defying collars of that ancient mantle that was a symbol of all the ones who had carried his name for thirteen generations.

This was the dragon.

Hiko laid another of his large hands on Kenshin's other shoulder, tilting him back, face grown blank in alarm at the amount of blood on him.

The spell of detachment broke at once, and Kenshin fell forward, buried his face in his master's shirt and burst into tears.


	26. Confusion

26  
Confusion

The biggest discomfort was thirst, and a thin sense of nausea that comes with overexertion over a long time with no food or water. This place could almost develop in a man claustrophobia that would not have existed before. And the most Saito had to show for his bout in the close confines of the tunnel were bruised ribs, brought on by a lucky staff under the arm of another swordsman. In the end, Saito had felled enough of those nearest to him that their bodies blocked the way of the ones behind them, and he was able to make a try for the very narrow tunnel where he had thrown Kenshin.

It _was_ a tight squeeze. He had to wriggle some in a most undignified way where the rurouni had simply slid through. Halfway through, Saito heard Kenshin scream.

He nearly froze at the sound of it, and the volume from so thin a chest that made it, and then began to slither faster than before when he had been merely trying to outdistance the groping hands of the minotaurs reaching into the little hole after him.

His larger size made his exit easier than Kenshin's had been, and he did notice the skid marks and disturbed stones of the smaller man's rough landing. He barely paid it more than a glance. Another very short hesitation when he saw the mutilated woman's corpse, three or four days old to his distracted guess. He stepped over a wolf's corpse, the ragged animal lying in a pool of its own blood. What the hell were such animals doing here?

When he reached Kenshin, there was already someone there. A very large, broad-shouldered man with a long cloak thrown over his shoulders. Kenshin was clinging to him, sobbing with all the abandon of a child. The big man himself seemed almost as lost, the lines of his face tense with an unidentifiable emotion. Saito saw his right hand held the wooden hilt of a blooded sword--likely he was the one who had slaughtered the wolves. The left hand hovered for a moment over Kenshin, until it finally lowered and put gentle pressure on the weeping man's back.

"Who are you?" the man asked suddenly.

Saito blinked. For a moment, he thought he was speaking to Kenshin, though it seemed from the very familiar way they were acting they should have known each other. Then the man turned his head slightly, intense and piercing eyes glaring in a way that immediately put Saito in mind of the first time he had met the gaze of Hitokiri Battousai.

The realization that he was, in fact, the one being addressed came a beat later, and Saito's temper was instantly fouled. He was _not_ accustomed to being made to feel stupid.

Still, he held onto his irritation, fished a cigarette from a pocket. He very briefly considered his alias of Fujita Goro; then, glancing over the man and the way he allowed the rurouni to cry against him, he instead answered simply, "Saito Hajime," and lit his cigarette with one of his few remaining matches.

The man blinked slowly, eyes lingering on Saito's face as if he couldn't believe it.

"Hiko Seijuro," he introduced himself shortly, then he turned back to the redhead, released his sword to lie close by his knee, and in slow, unhurried movement, he pressed Kenshin away from his chest.

Saito saw his face, red and puffy and tears still streaming down his face, though the sobs had tapered off. He also saw new, fresh wounds seeping through ripped and torn clothing. Kenshin did not meet the bigger man's eyes, keeping his head ducked. The two were still for a moment in this position before Hiko reached beneath his cloak. First, he came out with a sake jar, and then a small clay cup.

Kenshin's good hand was shaking too much to hold the cup, so it was taken from him and the man held it, carefully "feeding" the sake to him, his own hand large but steady and gentle under the cup and Kenshin managed to get the first cup down with nary a spill. Hiko filled the cup again and helped him drink it. Then again, and again until the hitch in the redhead's breathing stopped, the trembling ceased, and he began to look distinctly flushed and bleary.

The sake was set aside, and Saito watched as the man began to peel away the front of the ruined jacket, exposing shallow scores of wolf claws. None too deep or too serious but all bleeding vigorously.

Still in complete silence, the cloaked man coaxed Kenshin to lie down on the stone floor, absently brushing aside stones that were in the way. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kenshin was entirely obedient as he was eased down, and merely closed his eyes when the man began to wash his wounds with sake.

He started violently when Hiko took his left arm, rightly associating anyone fooling around with the tortured limb with pain, but he subsided under a stern glance, lying still as best he could as his hand was unwrapped. The bandaging was old, dirty and stained in spite of Sanosuke's effort to wash it for re-use at the hot springs. The hand beneath was, amazingly, better than it had looked like it might be. Effort had been made to ward off infection, so while the wound was raw and seeping, and the flesh torn again from Kenshin's efforts to climb the felled bridge, there was no festering. Not yet.

Hiko's face was expressionless as he irrigated the wound with the sweet-smelling alcohol. Kenshin was quiet throughout, writhing a little, but otherwise trying to be still.

Still not a word had been spoken. Saito raised his eyebrows when Hiko brought out a small bag from somewhere under his cloak, from which he pulled several rolls of clean new bandages, setting them aside. Evidently, this man came here prepared.

He stood, helping Kenshin to his feet. He stripped away the bloody remains of the hakama, shredded now the point it no longer protected but the most essential modesty. More wounds were treated on his legs and thighs. Saito noticed the way the cloaked man's eyes loitered on individual bruises and welts, almost as if counting or taking stock of the signs of abuse and undernourishment.

Kenshin's wounds were bandaged, neatly and skillfully, and in a display of foresight more impressive even than the thought to bring bandages, new clothing was pulled from Hiko's travel bag.

Kenshin, now very drunk, was more hindrance than help in dressing himself. Hiko spoke finally, impatiently snapping, "Be still!" and Kenshin desisted, staring muzzily forward as his arms were worked through the sleeves of a deep red gi, the ties of the new hakama tied neatly about his waist. The clothes were of the right size, as were the tabi and sandals also brought forth from the travel bag. This man knew him well.

The rurouni was teetering by the time the man put away the leftover rolls of bandages, the cup, and tied his sake to his belt. Hiko caught him, lifted him easily into his arms. Kenshin was small, seeming even smaller held this way by his benefactor. Still, decently dressed and shod for the first time, he looked better. Human again. The flush of drink on his face gave the illusion of health, and both his expression and his body were relaxed as he rested his head on the caped man's shoulder and sleepily closed his eyes, as if certain beyond all doubt that he was safe.

"You're not part of this conspiracy to harm him."

"No," Saito said.

Hard eyes fell on the discarded jacket Kenshin had been wearing, the distinctive sign of "aku" somehow having managed to survive where the rest of the garment was beyond hope. Perhaps he had met or seen Sanosuke because he asked, "His friends are nearby?"

"We were separated," Saito said. "They're somewhere a level above here." Hiko nodded and turned away from him, presumably going in search of them.

Saito paused bent to retrieve Aoshi's kodachi, wiped it quickly on the remains of Sanosuke's jacket and took it with him.

-----

Kenshin's father seemed to know where he was going, a fact for which Saito would not begrudge him, however much he disliked the fact that his own sense of direction was destroyed now that he couldn't see the sun or stars or feel the wind.

Kenshin's _father_? Saito frowned at himself, not certain where that thought had come from, or even if it was correct. It made sense in some ways, but not in others. For one thing, Hiko and Kenshin did not share a surname, though there could have been a number of reasons for this, from possible illegitimacies to one or both of them living by a name different from the ones given to them at birth.

There was also the fact that they didn't look a thing alike, the two of them as different from one another as they could possibly be. Physical resemblance suggested they weren't related at all. Yet there _were_ similarities, subtle ones. Mannerisms, mostly of facial expression, or the way their hands behaved on the hilts of their swords…

They stopped once, a short break in which Hiko had Kenshin sit down for a bandage change and then made him eat pieces of bento, sitting in front of him with his arms crossed in a posture that suggested the rurouni would eat every crumb of what he was given if he knew what was good for him, and Hiko was going to be watching closely to make certain he did.

This was interesting. Kenshin's manner with this man was wholly different than with any of his friends. He had not made a single attempt to speak, nor would he look the bigger man directly in the face. But he wasn't withdrawn, being mostly aware of everything going on at least within a few feet around him. He was simply…subdued. Saito considered this might have been because of the cry earlier, or partly fatigue, but didn't think so. Kenshin seemed, perhaps, vaguely afraid of Hiko. He was reassured by his presence, comforted by it. Saito could see layers of fear and pain and confusion had been repressed in ways his friends couldn't manage, and the man hadn't said anything Saito was aware of other than the terse, "Be still!" hours before.

And still, a small but solid sense of fear. Like a son with a strict father, never entirely certain the wrong thing done or said that could result in being whacked upside the head.

Hiko didn't look inclined to hit him, though. And rigidly stern as his face was, his hands were gentle when he changed Kenshin's wrappings, and Kenshin did not wince away from him.

At length, Saito grew bored with trying to deduce the truth himself and asked directly, "Are you his father?"

Hiko was startled by the question, his arms dropping a little as his face turned toward Saito. Kenshin looked up too, small piece of hardtack he had been forcing himself to eat under Hiko's austere gaze held halfway toward his mouth, first opened to receive it, and then remaining so in surprise.

He looked up at Hiko for the first time, mouth still open. Then blinked once, and then said, "Are you, Master?"

Hiko stared at Kenshin for ten heartbeats before he answered, dark eyes fixed on his questioning face, slightly narrowed. "Kenshin," he said softly. "You know I'm not."

Kenshin stared back for nearly as long, then turned his face away.

Hiko wasn't satisfied with this, however, and reached out to grasp his chin, turning his face back to his. "You _know_ I'm not," he said. "Why would you ask like you didn't?" His voice was calm, but his face was slightly strained.

"I d-didn't…" Kenshin whispered, looking even more strained. He closed his eyes. "I…I'm sorry. I…I g-get confu…confused. I'm sorry."

Hiko let him go and sat back. Another long moment went by. Then he said, "Finish eating, Kenshin."

"…Yes, Master."

Hiko did not offer Saito any of the bento, but he did not eat any of it himself. When he deemed the brief rest over, Hiko made Kenshin drink another two cups of sake and then pulled him to his feet, and set an arm around his shoulders to support him and began walking again.

Saito followed thoughtfully behind.

-----

Hikaru couldn't confess to much of an appetite, but he ate a little of a dried fish snack that had been one of Tan's favorites. He _could_ admit readily that he missed his cousin, but might have settled for one of his attendants. As it was, not even Hoshi or Oaka had come back.

He heard voices. Just from time to time, so indistinctly that he could only make out every fourth word. He might have dismissed them as his own madness. Sanity had no value to a dead man. Or at least, not _this _dead man. But he had lived deep under earth for far too long not to understand the strange directions sounds can take, when they bounce off the solid stone instead of passing through it like wood or paper. A voice next to one's ear could come from a mouth tunnels away.

It was not minotaurs, but people with language were close by. It wasn't likely they, whoever they were, could find his hiding place, leaving Hikaru free to wonder who they might be.

He doubted any of the prisoners were roaming about. They had feared these areas before because of Hikaru's men, but now they were probably crouching in whatever holes they could find, those who had not already come into the mercy of the minotaurs. He supposed some might soon become desperate enough to come out of hiding to search for food and water, but he didn't think enough time had passed that desperation would overcome terror. A few more days, perhaps, but not just yet.

No, it had to be someone else. A few of his enforcers, perhaps, but he doubted this, too. Most of them had been dismissed or warned away just before the minotaurs were unsealed. Primal fear was more than enough to overpower whatever loyalty, mindsifted or otherwise, they had for Hikaru.

He considered it might be the intruders who had caused all of this disruption in the first place. He frowned, slowly chewing his dinner. It was _possible_ that all of them had managed to stay together, find their hitokiri, fight their way through the minotaurs, and not get too lost coming back but…very improbable.

Hikaru finished eating and dusted his hands on his shirt. The only other explanation was that there were more uninvited guests in the labyrinth. Amazing how difficult it was to keep a secret these days. But then, he had to suppose that it was unreasonable to believe that Himura Kenshin's friends had ventured all this way and had told no one where they were going.

Fingers dancing lightly on the metal surface of his pistol, Hikaru straightened his shoulders, brightening somewhat with decision. He would go investigate.

Why not? He _was_ beginning to feel the effects of boredom, what with all this unproductive waiting. If he wanted death, perhaps he'd meet it out there in the swift, indirect way he desired. If it was the Kamiya woman and the other trespassers, this could be his chance for revenge. Maybe they _would_ have their hitokiri, and a good clear shot to his head, the red of it a beacon among the dark heads of his companions. A quick death, like Tan had wanted. The debt paid up at last, and after that, what did it matter? Whatever became of the labyrinth then would no longer be of Hikaru's concern.

If it was absolutely anyone else, then at least his curiosity would be satisfied. And there was, of course, his duty to defend the Mindsifter, to keep it secret. Yes, there was always and ever that.

-----

The voices were floating out through the tunnels leading to the firepit entrance.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get there. The minotaurs' pounding had made the small tunnels unstable or so littered with rubble that it was difficult to pass through by wheelchair. Still, with the knowledge that he had nothing better to do but go back to the storeroom and wait for something to happen, he made the attempt. At times he had to leave his wheelchair to clear a path of rubble by hand, crawling on hand and knee to bat and shove aside rocks in his way. Then he would hobble or crawl back to the chair and hope the way ahead wasn't as bad.

Finally he had to abandon his chair altogether, leaving it in the shadow of a boulder when it became obvious that it would be far easier to let his wrecked and twisted body carry him through the tunnels. It wasn't far now anyway. Hikaru held his lantern in one hand, a pistol in the other, his spare gun thrust in the back of his belt.

He kept his shoulder against the wall for support, grotesque gait wobbling and slow. His attention lapsed too deeply in keeping upright and moving forward, so that he was more surprised than anyone when he nearly walked directly into a uniformed police officer at the tunnel's end.

The officer jerked back in surprise, and Hikaru was so astonished he dropped his lantern.

The inner lip of the tunnel was plunged into darkness, causing the policeman to cry out in protest. Hikaru quickly dropped to one knee, to avoid hands groping in the dark, thinking fast.

"What?" a sharp voice from further in demanded. "What is it?"

"A boy is here, Sir!"

"A boy?"

Footsteps, coming closer. Bringing with them light from more lanterns.

Hikaru could have laughed. Centuries unnumbered since this labyrinth was born, and never once had eyes of authority gazed on its tunnels, the most informed minds in Japan, even the world, not even knowing the island existed. A seething, bottomless pit where a person could be made to disappear forever, or dangerous and unwanted knowledge could be ripped from their brains without taking their lives, most consigners not even _wanting_ to know just how it was done. And now--police! Quaint little law-enforcers! There was little hope of the labyrinth remaining beyond the knowledge of the outside world now.

Unless…

He smiled to himself in the darkness, mentally cataloguing the Patterns that had not been damaged when he had closed the wall on the Mindsifter. Maybe he could--

Quickly Hikaru set his pistol down and pushed it into a small pile of rubble. He jerked at his shirt, pulled out the tails to conceal the gun at his back. A lantern shone in his eyes, and he hastily widened his eyes and arranged his features in an expression he hoped was one of fearful innocence.

"Please help me!" he said. "I've been trapped here forever, and there are monsters everywhere!"


	27. Mistaken

27  
Mistaken

Hiko's temper was bad, but it was trapped in a cold, stony anger that showed only in the lines of his face.

It was nothing he would admit in a thousand years, but there was a lump in his throat, and he could barely speak for it. Which was just as well because he didn't feel like talking and his companions were as taciturn as they could possibly get without being dead. And even if he had felt like talking, he couldn't think of a thing to say.

Kenshin walked closely to him, nearly hidden under his master's cloak where one side had been drawn over him for extra warmth. His head was down, and as Hiko watched a small drop fell from his lowered face. Whether it was a tear or simply a drop of sweat, he didn't know. The lump muting Hiko grew.

Even when he was small, Kenshin's inner strength had been diamond-hard, sheltering an already powerful, unyielding spirit. The trails of life chipped away at that hardness, scarred it with hardships and the boy's own tragic mistakes, but it still had always held as strongly as the day Hiko had led him from a spreading graveyard dug by a child's hands. Now it was as if that which had protected his strength was in splinters, the spirit within violently attacked and all that was left was...

Kenshin, still drunk, stumbled, and Hiko reacted smoothly, circling an arm over the smaller man's narrow chest to support him without breaking his stride or disturbing the warmth of the cloak around them.

"I thought I told you to tell me if you were tired."

"I am not," Kenshin whispered hoarsely.

Hiko touched the back of his hand to Kenshin's forehead and then his cheek. His apprentice's skin was still cool, if somewhat clammy. No fever, only the flush of sake.

Into the silence that followed, Kenshin whispered, "Kaoru-dono..."

Ah, so he was worried about his...landlady.

"She's here somewhere," Hiko said. That was obvious of course, but he hoped Kenshin still knew him well enough that he didn't actually have to come out and say that he wouldn't be leaving her behind.

Saito interrupted before Kenshin could say anything one way or another. "Do you know of a way out of here?"

There was a tone to his voice so firm that the sentiment was somehow tacked on that since the big swordsman had come prepared in a great many other aspects before coming here, that might be something he wouldn't have overlooked.

Still, Hiko took a few moments before answering, and the very slight swell of impatience from behind him did not escape his notice. Saito was becoming frustrated with the situation. Hiko supposed he couldn't blame him. At the same time, his reaction to the silence--however minute--was amusing.

"There are several ways in and out of here."

"And you know of some."

"I've been told of them all."

The tiny hint of impatience was immediately gone. "All? By whom?"

"I didn't ask his name," Hiko said, deadpan. "He was honest about the entrances and exits, though," he added meaningfully.

Saito caught the hint easily enough and left it at that. "Then we can leave. We should take him out of here."

Hiko opened his mouth, but Kenshin jerked under his arm, turning to Saito, teeth bared. Instinctively, Hiko tightened his hold on his apprentice before he could leave the warmth of the cloak. "Everyone leaves! Not j-just I!"

Saito slowly inhaled of his cigarette, regarding Kenshin much more calmly than the redhead regarded him. "Even if you were in your right mind, you would say that. But right now, you aren't exactly in a condition to make decisions for yourself any longer."

Saito's statement was simple and logical, and not untrue. Anyone else might have perceived it as a simple, even impartial, observation. Something obvious, however callous the observer. Kenshin didn't see it that way. He thrust his body forward, but Hiko held him back still, no little bit alarmed how, even on drink, the smaller man had gone from docile and almost wilted to vicious and rabid with such little provocation.

Kenshin tried to speak, and several strings of words were so twisted that neither Hiko nor Saito could understand until the rurouni managed to bite out, "It's not true! I still…I still can decide what I do!"

A _very_ uncomfortable understanding tugged at Hiko's consciousness, and at once the choking lump was back, slamming in his throat hard and robbing him of speech even as his mind searched for something to halt this.

Saito was not so impaired. His features slanted and grew hard. "You," he said slowly, "are wounded and sick." _And intoxicated_, he added without speech by flicking his eyes toward the sake jar partly exposed at Hiko's hip. "This place is dangerous and it's becoming unstable. Taking care of you while wandering through this place looking for the others would be folly at this point. You've become a liability."

Hiko felt Kenshin go still next to him. The words were frosty, and made even colder by the fact that there was truth to them. A lot of truth. Exactly how many forms of crippled was Kenshin right now? How useless would he be in another fight, lame and with only one good arm and his mind--

Kenshin began to tremble, his slightly lowered head bobbed once, and he swallowed several times before he looked up again. His eyes were livid, his face taught with quiet rage. His voice was a hoarse, ragged whisper. "I am not stupid now!" he said. "I have not...have not become a...a child! I am not h-helpless! I am _not_!"

Movements swift with the need to react, Hiko latched onto Kenshin's shoulders and spun him around, pulling him back into the warmth of the flowing cloak that his apprentice should have inherited not all that long ago. He crushed the younger man close.

It was not so much a hug or the intention to comfort as much as it was putting a forceful stop to the conversation. He could sense the tears and the tremors coming, and he wanted them quelled. Now. He could not remember in all his life a more tormenting situation for all its lack of action. Kenshin was wrong and he was _lying _as if he could shield his weakness and hide all that he had lost that way. The truth was the rurouni _was _a liability now. He _wasn't_ as intelligent as he had been, he _had _become considerably like a child, and he _was _almost helpless. And he knew it all. And it hurt, waves and waves of pain leeching from him in the shudders of his good right arm as his slender hand clutched at Hiko's shirt, returning an embrace his master hadn't meant to give.

In spite of the way he had spoken, Saito hadn't been wrong in nearly anything he said. And it was true, Kenshin was badly wounded and illness wouldn't be long in coming with the cold and injuries, the lack of nourishment and rest. The commonsense thing to do would be to take Kenshin out of the labyrinth and leave him in the capable hands of Takani Megumi. She might have to tie him up and drug him to get him to rest and stay put when he knew his other friends were still in danger somewhere, but Hiko was sure she would manage if anyone could. Hiko could tie the knots himself. Then return to the labyrinth and extract the Kamiya girl and the others unencumbered by his apprentice's weakness. It would be swifter that way.

Yet Hiko turned away from the Wolf, dragging Kenshin with him. "Enough," he said, quite mildly. "We take him with us."

Saito's eyes narrowed in surprise, as if he hadn't considered a more rational mind than the redhead's would argue. He seemed about to say something, but Hiko half-turned back to him, all pretense of mildness gone as his own eyes glinted dangerously. "His spirit has sufferedenough. I am his master. If he can no longer make decisions for himself, then _I_ will be the one to decide for him. Now don't speak another word to him."

And without particularly caring how Saito might react to that, Hiko turned around and began marching through the tunnel, half-carrying Kenshin along under the cloak to help him keep up with the angry strides.

None of this was Saito's doing, and the swordsman knew that he was only lashing out when he should have kept better discipline of his temper. But then, Saito's words _had_ hurt Kenshin, laid out his fears and his shame and had treated these fragile things unkindly. And enough harm had been done for a while. Taking him along could damage his body further, but his master could sense it was his innermost parts that bore the most grievous wounds. What might happen if he did force Kenshin to return without his friends, and if he was restrained--use of ropes a jest or not--while he waited and worried and wasn't able to really understand what was going on?

There was no choice here except to choose what part of Kenshin Hiko would protect. The body or the heart.

If all else failed, then he could at least consider that not stopping to take Kenshin out would shorten the trip into this hell pit all that much more.

* * *

Misao, Kaoru, Yahiko, Sanosuke and Aoshi ran, keeping close together. There were a lot of choices to make, and not a lot of time to think about them as they twisted and turned. Sano, the swiftest runner, was in the lead and made the choices. No one second-guessed him. There was little point. They had no idea which way led to where as it was.

It galled Misao some to run instead of staying to fight, but not as much, she was certain, as it did others like Sano. If they could have come on even one wide-open cavern, they had a chance, but the sheer swell of numbers pressing in on them in the narrow tunnels made running the better choice.

She was in excellent shape, and naturally full of energy, but even she was becoming winded. The minotaurs were relentless.

She always had half an eye on Aoshi, so she was the only one to notice when he stumbled slightly next to her. It was even enough to break his stride, but alarm spiked through Misao nonetheless. "Aoshi-sama?" she said, only loud enough for him to hear over the pounding of feet and groaning noises of their pursuers.

He gave her an odd look, sucking in the edges of his mouth. It was a boyish, insecure sort of expression, and though she had no idea what it meant it frightened her. It was so unlike Aoshi for the brief moment that it lasted he might as well have been another person. But then his mouth relaxed again and he was the same, his eyes moving away from her again to watch where he was running, keeping Saito's lantern as steady as he could.

The hours were leaking by. Or maybe they were flying. Misao's time-sense was as fouled as anyone's. Maybe they had even spent scattered days running and fighting without rest. And for a while, it was one fight after another. They weren't even fighting to win, but to break through and keep going. She thought there must be so many minotaurs they could populate their own country.

Eventually their opposition thinned, falling back or else just not willing to follow their prey into the tunnels they fled into, which was no comforting thought. Rest was found in a deep groove in a narrow tunnel with Aoshi guarding one direction and Sano the other.

Yahiko lay on his back, sucking in air. Kaoru leaned over her ribs, breathing deeper and more quietly. Misao thought she had been close to throwing up herself, resting on her knees with her arms around her own stabbing ribcage.

Kaoru spoke first. "We're lost," she said despondently.

It seemed that was obvious, but what she really meant was that, yes, they had been running around wildly since being spotted and of course had no idea where they were--if they ever did--but far more importantly, they had lost all track of Kenshin and Saito.

Sanosuke swore, low and hitching under his breath. Yahiko turned over on his side and dug his fingers into his hair. Misao looked away from them, heart hurting. For herself, for them.

The loud and fearfully close boom of the drums--the hammers--pounding the stone walls jolted them all. They gained their feet again, moving closer together. The tunnels shook as the pounding did not relent, debris raining freely on them.

"It's going to collapse," Aoshi said, his tone amazingly calm even with his voice raised over the noise.

Misao saw no need to be as composed. "_What?_"

Kaoru said something she didn't quite catch. It sounded like, "Please, not again."

It was amazing enough to survive one cave-in as relatively uninjured as they had. They wouldn't be so lucky the next time. But just as important, if not as immediate, this would block them off from retracing their steps completely. They only got more and more lost, more distance and twists and turns away from Kenshin and Saito. And from the only way they knew in and out of this place.

How could things be so...hopeless?

Misao hadn't realized she had closed her eyes, hadn't noticed how she was just standing there waiting for the next thing to happen until she felt a strong hand grab her arm. Opening her eyes she saw the strong features of Aoshi before he turned her around and began marching her toward Sanosuke, who was similarly pulling Kaoru to her feet and moving her in the direction opposite from the way they had come. Another few, steadying steps and they were running again.

There was no idea if it was a safe place to go. Safe from either falling rocks, the inevitable collapse of the tunnel, or from the minotaurs, but for now it was the only other option besides sitting still and waiting for doom in one form or another to come to them.

* * *

Aoshi could recall only two things. One thing was the lantern. He remembered the way the light had sputtered and almost gone out at the sudden wind pressure. He could see clearly how it was buried a moment later, and then there was nothing but blackness.

He also remembered how he had latched onto Misao's shinobi clothing and flung her toward Yahiko. Yahiko had been in a good spot, against a very large rock that had already fallen, forced down by Kaoru, and the both of them kneeling and covering their heads with the realization that they could run no more for now. He had not the time to look for Sano. It didn't matter. He propelled Misao toward Yahiko's back and hoped she had the sense to follow their example.

And then the light was gone and he could not see her.

Rocks hit him. Unable to get to a safer place of his own, and deprived of the sight needed to find one, he ducked and covered his own head, pressing his back into the hardness of rocks that had already smashed into the ground near him. His teeth clenched when one of the girls cried out. Anger flared up in him for a moment, but it was brief. There was nothing to direct the anger to, and it did not benefit him now anyway.

He thought he might have been hit in the head, but he couldn't be certain. He considered it might have happened and he just forgot. That seemed to be happening a lot lately, forgetting, even things just moments past. But he could feel a terrible lightheadedness, and nausea. He tried to listen. He couldn't hear the others, or the drums--the pounding hammers--or the falling rocks.

Had time passed? Without him marking it? How much time?

He couldn't move, and there was nothing to see. It occurred to him to call out, but when he drew in a breath to do so, it seemed only dust that he collected into his lungs. By reflex he began to cough.

It was as if the noise were some sort of signal. Rocks above him were being moved and shifted. He gained sight again, fire from another torch, or maybe the same one re-lit. He felt strong hands grab the back of his jacket. He thought it might be Sanosuke at first, but the hands were singularly ungentle as he was hauled out of the debris that had fallen on him and more hands grabbed his arms, twisted them behind his back. His arms, they were numb. Strangely numb. A torch was thrust almost directly into his face, and he instinctively flinched back from the fire.

"What do you think?" someone from behind him muttered.

Aoshi blinked, almost as blind from the light as he was from the darkness.

"He's so clean," someone else, a woman, said. "He's shaven and his clothes smell like clean air. He's got meat on his bones. He's one of _them_."

Them? _Clean? _He was covered with earth and rocks, his clothes torn, spotted with cuts and bruises of assorted vintage, and had a few days' growth of beard on his chin and he was "clean" and "shaven"?

His vision began to adjust some, and he saw them. People. Several people. Dirty, disheveled, gaunt with hunger and so ragged with neglect that by comparison Aoshi _did_ look kempt, well-fed and clothed. But they weren't mad, not minotaurs, and not with Penna.

"Who are you?" he asked.

He was ignored, while the woman and a shirtless man talked quietly to each other for a few moments before the man approached him.

His eyes were small, sunken in, and he had a beaten, harassed air to him that usually came with one who had been imprisoned for a very long time.

"We want a way out of here," he said without preamble. "Show us a way, and your death will be swift and painless."

Aoshi blinked at him, incredulous. Such a request and with it, such a reward.

"I don't know a way out of here," he said, and regretted speaking instantly.

He was, if it were possible, just a little more surprised at himself than the man questioning him. He had not intended to speak at all, at least not until he had thought a little over this situation, and yet his mouth had uttered words. The wrong words. Ironic, that they were the truth, but he hadn't become such a fool yet that he didn't know this was _not_ what these people wanted to hear.

Somehow, he hadn't expected the blow. He should have, considering that these people had just informed him they had every intention of killing him. Certainly they shouldn't mind hurting him a little first.

The first was a casual backhand, the kind meant to punish a wayward mouth. His head snapped to the side, but before he could recover, there was a deep punch into his gut. They wanted to drive home that they were serious. Aoshi believed them.

"There is a way out of here somewhere," the man went on, almost conversationally. "I don't know why you've done this to us. I don't know what I've done to deserve to be here. I don't know why the food and clean water have stopped coming, and I really don't know why a plague of monsters have been unleashed on us now. To clear us out, maybe, since most of your kind disappeared when they showed up."

"'_My kind'_?" Aoshi repeated, straightening. The ones holding his arms behind him tightened their grip, twisting his arms. He barely felt it. "I don't know who you think I am, but I only just arrived here..." He paused, not exactly certain how long he had been in the labyrinth. A few days? A week? More? "I came here seeking a friend who was taken from his home by force."

There was a ripple of amusement through the prisoners of the labyrinth. "Well, weren't we all?" the leader drawled mockingly. "Never mind. The way out," he prompted.

Aoshi took a shallow breath. He knew the way he came in. A hole over a very cold pool. But there wasn't a way back up. He might have shown it to them if he could, but even to save his life he did not know how to get back there now. His sense of direction was completely gone. He did not have a path back to the Mindsifter. But they would never believe it.

"I am not who you think I am," he repeated, feeling the uselessness of it, the irritation of wasted breath. He seemed to give up and let go as he spoke, his eyes roving around where the light touched, the destruction of part of the tunnel ceiling and walls. He didn't see his friends anywhere.

He also became aware he was a lot more hurt than he had been able to pay attention to until this moment. His arms still had a numbness...had he dislocated a shoulder? He hoped not; this was truly a bad time. His body was thirsty. He was bleeding from somewhere, could feel the hot warmth soaking into one pant leg, but couldn't gain enough stock of himself to think of where the wound was exactly. There were too many points of pain, and of numbness, to focus on any one.

He tensed to try to shake off the deadened feeling as best he could and ready himself for a fight, but the woman said, "Have you found anyone else?"

There had been a few men sifting through the rubble, but in a slow, unhurried manner. "Might take a while," one said with a shrug.

"Fine. When you dig them out, bring them."

Aoshi's vision swam. He took a few more, shallow breaths, wondering why he seemed so hurt, but wasn't actively hurt_ing_. This was the worst time yet for weakness.

_Prisms…prisms in the sunlight…twirling haphazardly, seeming without pattern…patterns…Patterns…_

_Oh…oh, no…_

Too late, much, much too late, Aoshi jerked back, his mouth actually falling open in horror at his complete and utter blankout--and a costly one he realized, as he watched the man pulling the very prisms he had been daydreaming of out of his coat, clinking them together. Spikes of panic prompted Aoshi to shut his eyes against the movements, afraid to look directly at the thing. An image of Okina floated behind his eyelids, but there was no time to wonder why as his ears were assaulted with an outraged cry from his captors, followed by the sound of the Shortsifter being flung away.

"_You_!" someone snarled, and Aoshi opened his eyes again, to find the woman facing him this time, anger etched across her haggard face.

It was a pitifully small chance proving he was not a Penna now.


	28. Maybe

28  
Maybe

Aoshi's memories were faulty these days, but he was fairly certain he had never been in such a situation before. He was better than that, wasn't he?

At first, he had thought to endure what he could because he didn't want to hurt them. Then, he realized that he really, truly was quite helpless. It was an alien feeling, something cold and fearful and twisted inside him, like a snake curled up inside his belly.

His first mistake was letting them take his legs. Or perhaps it was in assessing himself. He had been correct that there was a dislocated shoulder. He hadn't even noticed his remaining weapon had been taken, and there were at least...two? Maybe three moments he blanked out, his thoughts threading into nothing until he managed to shake himself to awareness again and found that his body was automatically struggling without him, but not with any helpful results.

His martial arts were gone. Not quite...gone, he just couldn't gather any sense about him. It kept fleeing him. If only there was a little more light, or something else for his mind to focus on... For some reason, he thought that the stark lack of friendly faces was one of the reasons his mind kept shrinking away and not letting the rational parts try to get a handle on his situation. Which was utterly, unreasonably _ridiculous. _Since when did one expect to see friendly faces in the midst of battle?

And then, how often had he fought _alone_? Wasn't there a time, not at all long ago, that he expected never to see a friendly face again for the rest of his life? A _short_ life… A life another man had forced him to look at again for the value he had tried to throw away…

The blank moments cost him dearly. They had rope made from knotted strips of clothing, which was for some reason soaking wet when they wound it about his arms and his chest. They took his jacket at some point, and he heard a soft thump, something that was in his pockets falling out and rolling away into the shadows. Aoshi tried to recall what it was, but couldn't think of what it could be other than a brief flash of alarm and the hope one of the others managed to find it--if they were alive and could get away from the diggers these people were sure to leave behind.

The third and final time he lost track of what was going on, he came directly into a nightmare. His legs were tied at the knees and ankles and they were--as far as he could tell--fully intent on killing him.

He wasn't in the tunnel where he and the others had been buried under the fallen rubble, but in a much wider cavern, full of labyrinth prisoners. It was all the more alarming that he could not at all remember moving, or being moved into these new chambers.

Fear spiked through him. So cold. So unfamiliar. The lack of control on his own feelings frightened him more than anything. Something fragile and wounded, caught somewhere between his heart and his mind trembled. It was a sickening sensation, and Aoshi could see for the first time just how vulnerable he truly was, now that so much of his mental shielding was damaged.

Angry, twisting hands caught his shirt, ripping it apart until it fell away from his back and hung at his sides, caught in his belt and by one intact sleeve on the right side. He was forced to his knees and bent forward. His hands forced in front of him to be secured to a metal spike he was certain hadn't been there just a moment before.

Panic arose afresh, again washing over him before he could force it back. When had they driven that spike in the ground, just in front of him? How could he not have noticed?

He couldn't block the fear. His thoughts spun out of control. He couldn't recall a thing, not a single calming technique. It was like he had forgotten how--but how could he? It had all been with him, at least back on the boat that had borne them to the archipelago.

With a jolt, he realized what they were preparing to do. It wasn't that he hadn't known from the moment they bared his back, it was only that there was so much else to distract him. But it was only in that second that he felt the first bite of a lash on his skin.

He didn't cry out, however ill-prepared he was. That, at least, seemed as it should be, but he did jerk with surprise and pain. He felt another, then a third and a forth. Well-timed, letting the pain inflicted flow and ebb to the fullest.

Aoshi seized control of his muscles. In his face, his arms, his shoulders. Tried to slip on a stoic mask since, for the first time in his remembered life, it did not happen naturally.

Anger flared for a moment, but on a wayward thought it dissolved into horror. They could hurt him. They could really hurt him. This pathetic, confused rabble...they were going to accomplish what some of the greatest men of this generation could not.

The only thing he had left to his advantage was the fact that they didn't know yet how much more vulnerable he was than he should have been.

On the other hand, he didn't know himself how long it might take for them to find out.

* * *

"Two hundred seventeen…two hundred eighteen…two hundred…hundred…" 

"Nineteen."

"Nineteen. Two hundred twenty."

"Keep counting, Kenshin. You can do it quietly if you're out of breath, but you'd better know what number we're on if I ask you. Understand?"

"Yes, Master. Two hundred twenty-two…"

From behind them, Saito let out a small breath. "Why," he asked, his voice breathy with exasperation (or perhaps partly exertion), "are you having him do that?"

"It's good for him," Hiko murmured, deadpan. He sounded like he knew what he was doing to his own ears, but he really hadn't the slightest idea if having Kenshin count the stairs they climbed was exercising the redhead's wits. He _had _noticed, though, the repetitive and single-minded task had seemed to relax his apprentice's stutter. That was something, at least.

"What number are we on, Kenshin?"

"Two hundred forty-four."

God of mercy. Hiko never seen so many stairs at once. That moron back on the island had not seen fit to mention hundreds and hundreds of upward-leading stairs, some of which were so old they crumbled underfoot and nearly caused a fall or two for someone even as sure-footed as a swordsman of Hiko Seijuro's caliber. And even if he had made mention of it, the stupid clutch wouldn't have foreseen the master trying to guide, haul, or carry his apprentice up every one of those stairs.

The fact that Saito hadn't once complained other than a soft grunt when a step broke under one of his shoes only served to irritate him more.

He really hated this place.

If Kenshin wasn't here, he would have hated it a little less. He could admit that, if just to himself. It was only that every discomfort Hiko had to face, it was visited a hundredfold on his weakened apprentice. He had not considered the stairs would be so long when he had coaxed Kenshin to walking them.

Several minutes passed in shadows and steady climbing. Kenshin spoke out loud without being asked when they reached four hundred. Hiko nodded when the redhead looked up for approval.

Several dozen more steps. Hiko supported Kenshin, an arm around his waist to take what weight he could, but the steps persisted, ever and ever upward. It was becoming too much of an effort for Kenshin to lift a foot, place it on the next step and pull his weight up with it. His legs were trembling with effort, his new clothes damp with sweat.

More to distract him than because he wanted to know the answer, Hiko asked, "What number are we on, Kenshin?"

The redhead didn't seem to hear, his face down as if all his concentration was on getting onto the next step, back bent slightly like the sandal on his foot was made of something very heavy.

"Kenshin?"

"I...I don't know!" Kenshin's breath drew in sharply, wavering, and was let out in a small, helpless and defeated little sound that caused alarm to spike through Hiko's heart. "I d-don't know...I don't know...I don't know..." Kenshin continued to repeat, bending a little more on Hiko's arm like his back and knees weren't willing to support him any longer.

"All right. All right!" Hiko said quickly, and only some disused, fatherly instinct warned him from shouting as he tried to silence his apprentice. Quickly he swung Kenshin into his arms, the fast movements and sudden weightlessness jolting the redhead enough that he quieted again. His head rested on his master's shoulder, eyes open but unfocused. He still trembled, though now maybe more with nerves than from exertion.

Hiko carried him the rest of the way at a brisk pace, fighting the irrational feeling that there was something just there on the stairs that he had to leave behind as quickly as possible. Maybe there was.

When they finally, finally reached the top, it leveled out onto a floor that looked like it had once been tiled before it had been broken up by the shifting caused by the minotaurs' pounding. Hiko's calves were paining him. It was high time for a rest.

He sank to the floor, back against the wall, and eased Kenshin down beside him.

"I don't know what you're going to do," Saito said.

Hiko looked up at him, frowning deeply. Saito didn't look at him; he was staring at the top of Kenshin's head. "I don't know what you're going to do," he repeated more slowly.

Mildly irritated, Hiko said, "Why would it be up to me to do anything?"

"You're doing something right now, aren't you?" Saito said. But it was more as a statement than a question. Hiko opened his mouth but Saito, his eyes still lingering on Kenshin, didn't see and spoke on, "He would be dead if you hadn't come. All the same, he was probably better off without you."

Somehow the statement, though unexpected, didn't faze Hiko. "How is that?"

Saito's eyes moved to his. "His friends. The Kamiya girl and the others. With them, he was fighting. He knew his wounds, but he still thought he could protect them. With you, I think he feels more keenly just how weak he is. It's always been that way with you, hasn't it?"

Hiko was stunned for a moment, but only for a moment. Then he was angry. Not enraged, and not wrathful. Just a deep but dull anger.

But again, Saito spoke up first. "Not any of my damned business how you raised him, huh? Well, you did a lousy job of it."

Perhaps Hiko was tired, or maybe it was stress and uncertainty that had been clinging to him since he received that message from Aoi-ya what felt like a life-age ago that had finally begun to weigh him down, but his reaction wasn't what anyone might have expected.

In his mind, he wondered if Saito was _trying_ to pick a fight for some reason, but Hiko's anger just gusted through him like a hot wind and then died all at once, leaving behind an empty and shaky sort of feeling that he didn't care for at all.

"Maybe I did," he said softly. "Maybe I did do a _lousy_ job. Maybe I spent too much time teaching him how to fight that I didn't teach him _why_ to fight. Maybe I thought all those swordsmanship philosophies were enough to point him in the right direction. Maybe I considered keeping him alive more important than giving him reasons to live. Maybe I thought feeding him and pouring alcohol on his cuts was enough and he could work out the details for himself. Maybe I regret the distance I've held him, and maybe that distance was because I knew my death would come at his hands for the sake of our sword style. Maybe I regret convincing myself that the reason I still live after the completion of his training was because he wanted to uphold his vow not to kill rather than the fact that he simply didn't want me to die. Maybe every flaw in his idiotic personality is entirely my fault, even when half the work had already been done for me by his parents. Maybe it's _my_ failings that are the reasons that Katsura Kogoro didn't find some other boy to be his hitokiri, and that now Kenshin seems to be responsible for every weight on Japan from deep-fried madmen wanting to take over to a child's night terrors because his father uses Hitokiri Battousai to scare him into doing his chores to some fool who couldn't earn himself a glorious enough suicide." Hiko's voice, though never reaching a shout, had risen with each "maybe", and at this last, he rose to his feet. "Or maybe," he said, looking Saito directly in the face, "it _isn't_ any of your damned business how I raised him."

To his credit, Saito remained silent and didn't tug any further threads of challenge. The expression on his face was a grim one, the look of a man who had successfully managed to tease out an answer to a question he had not believed he could have gotten directly and then some. But perhaps he hadn't expected to watch the other man so ruthlessly stab himself in the heart so many times in only the space of a few breaths.

Whatever Saito was feeling was as much his own business as ever, but his eyes moved from Hiko's to rest on Kenshin and the way they stayed there made Hiko glance at his apprentice as well.

He had not noticed, until that moment, the way Kenshin had stood up also and had his only good hand gripping Hiko's shirt underneath the cloak, slender fingers twisted in the material. Or the way he had been insistently tugging, like a child seeking to gain attention. He was quietly crying again. Hiko was suddenly and completely certain Kenshin didn't even realize there were tears running down his face.

Hiko caught Kenshin's hand to still the jerking on his shirt. "What's the matter now?"

Kenshin opened his mouth, but nothing came out. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open and tears streaming down his face.

He looked so young, like that. Young and lost and horribly hurt. And what had caused it _now_? Why were there tears? At a loss, Hiko quickly went back over the things he had just said, trying to find the moment when he could have said something to hurt him.

"Yahiko told me," Kenshin said at last.

Hiko blinked. "Told you what?"

"Told me. Wh-when you fought a...a giant m-man in Kyoto."

Hiko shook his head, not understanding. "What of it, Kenshin?"

"Yahiko said...said you t-told him he was m-more loyal to his master than...than I am to mine."

It was now Hiko's turn to open his mouth and have nothing to say at once.

Kenshin's took a deep, shuddering breath. "But...but I... I would l-lose you anyway. No m-matter what I did, you would b-be gone. If I st-stayed, and...and finished m-my training, or...or if I l-left... G-giving me the t-technique would have killed you. K-killed you and y-you wouldn't have told me before...b-before I killed you. Ama...amaka...amaka--"

He broke off, and his head dropped into his good hand, but not before Hiko saw the awful, stricken expression. That he had so much trouble saying the name of the technique seemed to be a back-breaking last straw.

Hiko drew in a deep breath of his own and turned, thinking to tell Saito to get lost for a while only to find that the Wolf had decided to excuse himself already, walking off into the shadows with his back to them. Directing his attention back to his apprentice, he gently grasped either side of Kenshin's head, turning the small, runny nose and big wet eyes up to face him.

"Amakakeru. Say it."

"A-amakakeru..."

"Ryu no..."

"...R-ryu no..."

"Hirameki."

"Hirameki."

"Again. Amakakeru..."

"...Ryu no Hirameki."

Hiko nodded approvingly, his dark eyes never leaving Kenshin's. "Now altogether. Say it."

"Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki."

"Do you remember it?"

Kenshin nodded.

"Then it hasn't left you. It's still there. So dry your tears."

Hiko let go of Kenshin's face and watched in frustration as Kenshin tried to obey him, swiping at his eyes and holding his breath against soft little hiccups.

_You told him he was more loyal to his master than I am to mine. But I would lose you anyway. No matter what I did, you would be gone._

Hiko grit his teeth, frustration mounting. He really, really didn't know what to do right now. To say.

He tried. "I'm still here," he offered. "Like I've always been."

He regretted that as soon as he said it, and when Kenshin lowered his arm from his eyes he could see his student had found no solace in that remark either. After all, it wasn't exactly true. There had been a time, a very long time in fact, when the two of them were very far apart from each other indeed. Far enough apart it had not looked like they would see each other again until one of them died, if even then. Kenshin had been unable to swallow his concern for the world outside his place as Hiko Seijuro's student, so he had left. For a while, Hiko felt a sense of abandonment. And then, though he hadn't understood it at the time, a sense of _having_ abandoned.

That was ludicrous. It had been Kenshin's decision to leave.

_What was I supposed to do?! Back then? Knock him over the head and tie him to the storage chest for the next five years?_ _Assuming all those rope-escaping lessons were just a waste of my time!_

And what if he _had_ managed to find the right words, the reasons he needed to convince Kenshin to stay? What would things be like at this time, had they turned out the way he had wanted? In a sort of dazed horror, Hiko thought of the possibility of Kenshin having finished his training as planned. Perhaps if Hiko had put off the last thing that was left untaught for a small while, polished on what Kenshin already knew, he thought maybe his apprentice would have mastered Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu at perhaps age sixteen or so. He would have taken the name, even if he was too much of a midget to wear the damn cape. Hiko himself would be dead of course, because no sword of any quality would have been able to protect the both of them in the final moment of the succession technique the way the sakabato had. For Kenshin, life would go on. Things would happen. Perhaps he would have wandered for a while anyway. There were battles to be fought as well as roads to be walked. Kenshin might have chosen an apprentice, perhaps someone not unlike that fierce-eyed boy who learned under Kenshin's landlady. Kenshin would have been a good instructor; he had the patience for it, the innate kindness to make each word of praise or criticism matter. And then, he too would pass on into the fate of each master. And then the cycle would begin again at his end.

It began as a shiver in Hiko's heart, and spread out before his inner eye. For the first time, he realized that this was somehow not what he had really wanted for Kenshin. For the apprentice, for the successor to the Hiten Mitsurugi-ryu, yes. For all purposes of tradition, this was the way it was meant to be. He could never know the details, only compare what his own life had been like, and what his own master had told him of his, and the master before him.

But for Kenshin? Kenshin, as he was. Not Kenshin the apprentice or even Kenshin the swordsman, but just Kenshin himself. The one he saw in all the small memories...the moments that had nothing to do with training. The smiles young Kenshin used when his eyes rested on his favorite things or ate foods that he liked. Simple joys in his eyes in those rare and far-between moments of fun, like when he went swimming or climbed trees.

Whatever Kenshin's choices had been, the roads he had walked had been lonely and unhappy ones. And that had been a problem all along, had it not? It had been _the_ problem, something Kenshin had _never_ been able to shake, to escape on his own, without help. From a certain point of view, the reason that he was happy at the dojo in Tokyo was because he had a small group of friends that rescued him from that path, and the reason he couldn't fall back into it however hard the winds of fate blew over him was because they were too stubborn to let him go.

_And where was I?_

Indeed, where had been all this time? Even in the distance, when he had had it in him to look after the Shirobeko while his apprentice recovered from his battles with Shishio and his men within, he had heard the sounds of Kenshin laughter mingling with those who held him precious, Hiko still hadn't managed to get it. Still hadn't figured out this very thing that had been consistently struggling for his attention ever since he had started avoiding drinking his sake in Kyoto all this time later.

_I was training an apprentice, not raising a son_, he growled to himself, and not for the first time! But the thought was half-hearted and lacked vehemence. If that wasn't a flat lie, then Kenshin's spirit wouldn't have been lingering in Hiko's home, disturbing his sleep and ruining his appetite.

_Maybe I regret the distance I've held him, and maybe that distance was because I knew my death would come at his hands for the sake of our sword style._

Hiko breathed in slowly and let out a long, quiet breath. Never, never in his forty-four years of life had he been this confused and indecisive, not even in his adolescence. If this boy _wasn't_ going to be the death of him, then he was at least going to drive him mad. All the things that had come tumbling from his mouth--before Saito Hajime no less--they had meaning and yet he had never said such things to himself before. Perhaps it was all true. Maybe more than he really knew.

But maybe...maybe there could still be another chance...

"Master?" Kenshin's soft whisper brought him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

Kenshin rubbed at the corner of his eye with the heel of his right hand.

"Are you tired now?"

Kenshin nodded, eyes downcast.

"So am I."

Kenshin's eyes came back up, lightly surprised. One side of Hiko's mouth lifted in wry amusement. Everyone got tired. Even Hiko Seijuro. No shame in it.

Gently, he put his hands on Kenshin's shoulders and turned him toward the wall. "I'll fix us a place," he said softly.

* * *

Saito explored a small way into a few interwoven tunnels, one of which was nothing but a complete circle back into a much larger tunnel, and another that was almost a series of loops. This part of the labyrinth had been done when the architect was in a creative mood. 

When he got back to the place where he left Hiko and Kenshin, he was glad to see the former hitokiri was no longer threatening to dissolve into a puddle again. Saito was coming to the point when he really hated that, and he had decided against the wisdom of another good, stabilizing smack across the redhead's face in the presence of Hiko Seijuro. Let him handle it.

But when he reached them, he found a surprising little scene. They were both against the wall a short distance away from the hundreds of steps they had just climbed. Hiko sat with his sword on his shoulder and his back to the wall in a relaxed but guarded posture. His cloak had been folded once and laid across the ground beside him, with Kenshin curled up on it, his knees pulled up and his arms inside his gi for warmth. His back was against Hiko's hip. Glancing at his face, Saito saw the light flush there, his mouth slightly open and his breathing deep. This, and the jar and cup beside it were signs that he had been dosed with sake again.

"Naptime, is it?"

Hiko opened one eye. "When was the last time you slept, Saito?" was all he said. And without waiting for an answer, he closed the eye again.

Saito watched them another moment before sighing very softly before he, too, sat down against the wall and rested his sword within easy reach. Sleeping wasn't the easiest or safest thing to do in a place like this, but it _had_ been a while, and right now, there was nothing better to do.

* * *

Four men had been left behind to look through the rubble for survivors. For them, this was not a day when Kamiya Kaoru was going to make a decent prisoner or hostage. 

Noticing movement from under a point in the fallen rocks, they had worked to dig her out while she had shifted from below. Only when she was free, emerging out of the last layer of rubble with an angry cry did they realize what they were up against. A dirty, wild-haired, and extremely pissed off female with a big stick and precise knowledge of just how to use it.

Of all four men, only one had the good sense to keep his distance at the sight of her. But the other three did not share his keen observation of the anger and moved to detain her. One ended up skidding down a pile of rocks grasping his face, another flew several feet head first and limbs sprawling, and the third fell where he stood, knocked out completely.

The man who had not rushed Kaoru felt even less desire than before to do so. He backed away quickly from the wrathful woman and bumped smack into someone else.

Jumping away and whirling, he found himself eye-level with a bruised and heaving bare chest. Raising his gaze, he found a pair of angry brown eyes, only vaguely less wrathful than those of the woman's.

"I am _sick_ of getting rocks dropped on my head," Sanosuke said. His right hand snagged the front of the man's ratty shirt and he lifted him off his feet. "I'm sick of it always being dark. I'm sick of never being able to breathe fresh air. I'm sick of being hungry and thirsty, I'm sick of fighting and running from freaks, and I'm _very_ sick of those freaks hurting my friends!"

While Sano talked, Kaoru had forced an arm under the rubble and managed to assist Yahiko to his feet. He was largely unharmed, but sported many new bruises and abrasions. Misao was not far, and as lucky or unlucky as any of them in escaping serious harm. After making certain her legs still agreed to support her, Misao stepped over the body of one fallen man and began searching for Aoshi.

Fifteen minutes went by before Sanosuke--with surprisingly little roughing up--had gotten the frightened man to talking.

The man's face was stretched taut with fear but there was anger, pain, and a streak of defiance. Still dangling in the air by Sanosuke's tireless fist he said, "We don't know what's going on. Only a little while ago, things were as they always were: hell. But then they let the demons back into hell, and they're eating us now. Guess you guys got sick of feeding us because the food's stopped being delivered and now we got monsters in here to clean us out."

"What do you mean 'you guys'?" Yahiko said sharply.

The man seemed to notice Yahiko for the first time, and likewise Yahiko took a closer look at him. He seemed young and old at the same time, like he had not quite lived a lot of years, and yet those years had aged him past his time. His face was mostly hidden by clumps of beard that he looked like he had been trying to keep in check by pulling it out with his hands, and his eyes were red-rimmed and sunken in.

"They never had little kids with them before," the man observed quietly, speaking mostly to himself.

Even after all he had been through in the past few days, Yahiko still managed to find the energy to puff up at being called a little kid, but his retort was halted when Kaoru spoke.

"He thinks we're with Penna. That means these men _aren't _with Penna," she said, her words soft and haunted. Yahiko swallowed. After finding Kenshin, seeing the condition he was in, and then losing him again with only _Saito_ to look after him...

_Hang on, Kaoru. We don't need you to worry about too._

From several feet away Misao called to them, "I can't find Aoshi-sama. He isn't here."

Sanosuke grip tightened on the filthy shirt, closing off some of the man's airway. "Who are you, and where is our friend?"

Yahiko closed his eyes, crushing down a wave of hopelessness before it could spread through him. Now they had lost Aoshi as well.

Yahiko took a step forward and his foot bumped into something that rolled away. Much softer and rounder than a rock. Curious, he stooped and caught it before it got too far. He straightened, eyes widening in surprise. In his hand he held the ball of string that had been left in the island house by Penna Tan.


	29. Crumbling, Fighting, and Seawater

29  
Crumbling, Fighting, and Seawater

Kenshin woke to the feel of a cup pressed against his lips. It was water this time, not sake, and he drank thirstily.

"Go back to sleep," his master's voice said. Kenshin did, and woke up again a little later, awareness moving sluggishly through a soft, drowsy heat that he recognized but couldn't name. Someone was handling his left hand and arm again. Unprepared for the pain, he cried out softly, and was hushed again by Hiko.

So he took a deep, steadying breath and lay still with his eyes closed, trying to think of something past the pain as his master deep-cleansed the wound on his hand with sake, softening the scabbing in the alcohol and removing it with a cloth to get to the raw flesh beneath.

Nearly in tears again, Kenshin thought it was over when he felt the hand being wrapped again in fresh bandaging, but as soon as this was finished, instead of allowing him to pull the arm close to his chest again, Hiko stretched the arm out and began to probe the bone until he located the source of the fracture. It took every ounce of willpower Kenshin still possessed to remain still.

"Broken once and then broken again recently after it began to heal," he heard Hiko murmur, and Saito grunted in answer. He had been there when it had happened the second time.

Then Hiko began to massage the muscles of the arm. Distressed, Kenshin could keep still no longer and writhed involuntarily, grasping his master's arm with his good hand.

"Relax," Hiko said sharply. It was not the command of the tone that made Kenshin obey him but rather the way his master's hand was suddenly on his forehead, smoothing back the overgrown bangs. The surprise a caress given for no more than the sake of a caress was surprising enough that Kenshin let go and lay still for a while under the cool, calloused palm.

"He's sick, isn't he?"

"Yes," Hiko said in a deadpan tone that Kenshin had come to notice he used a lot when speaking with Saito. "It's not very bad. The fever is small."

"For now," Saito said.

Oh. Kenshin smiled to himself, realizing that he _hadn't_ been petted but actually checked for fever. Well, that did make a great deal more sense, didn't it?

The hand left his forehead and then Hiko started the massage again. It hurt so much at first Kenshin's back arched a little, especially when the large, strong fingers got close to the fracture. But gradually the massage, which continued to his bicep and shoulder and then moved back again all the way to his wrist, became easier and began to relax the muscles that Kenshin had not even noticed were so knotted and cramped in the first place.

"Kenshin, do you _want_ to lose this arm?" Hiko grumbled under his breath.

"You should have taken him out of here." Saito again.

Hiko chuckled humorlessly. "Kenshin, we should leave soon, shouldn't we?"

Kenshin cracked open his eyes and looked up at Hiko. "N-not without Kaoru-dono and Sano and everyone," he said.

"That's what I thought."

Saito shrugged slightly, as if seeing no point in wasting breath or energy on an ultimately futile argument.

Kenshin smiled slightly and closed his eyes. The torchlight hurt them a little today. Hiko's ministrations had eased a lot of his pain, and he had almost fallen asleep again until he felt a tugging at his waist. The feeling of his pants loosening frightened him into wakefulness and his eyes flew open, staring up in a fear he hadn't meant to communicate to one of the people he trusted most. "W-why?"

Hiko withdrew his hands slowly, watching Kenshin with a strange look on his face. "I'm going to check the wounds on your stomach and legs," he said slowly.

Kenshin had already forgotten the wolves and that he had taken injuries from a fight with them. Sometimes his hurts could blur together so that he usually didn't even think about individual ones. But now that he did remember the wolves, he remembered in fine detail. The crushing teeth, the choking stink of breath and the filthy coat scraping against his skin, and the ragged toe-claws raking into his flesh. Forgetting where he was, he shivered.

The feel of his shoulder being gripped brought him back to the present. Hiko was leaning over him a little more, the same strange look on his face. "You know I won't harm you, Kenshin."

At once, Kenshin's heart throbbed with guilt. "I...I know, Master. Sano wasn't going to h-hurt me either. I d-don't know why... I'm sorry."

Hiko searched Kenshin's eyes carefully. He opened his mouth, but whatever he might have said, he seemed to change his mind and shut it again. Saito was standing behind the dark-haired swordsman, a thoughtful look on his face as well.

Suddenly uncomfortable, and now very aware both of the older men were thinking of something he had missed entirely, Kenshin opened his own mouth to ask what was going on. Hiko interrupted him.

"Never mind, Kenshin." He raised his hand again and passed them over his apprentice's eyes, forcing them to close. "Just rest some more. I'll see to your wounds after you're asleep."

Confused, Kenshin shook his head under Hiko's hand. "But you can--"

"_Kenshin_," Hiko said warningly.

Kenshin sighed. "Yes, Master."

His dreams were as dark and full of shadows as the tunnels and shafts where he had dwelled for so long. He could see glints and glimmers, the gloss of Kaoru's hair and the shine from her eyes. He tried reaching for her, but the earth had parted between them. He could almost touch the tips of her fingers as she stretched her arm out to him...

He almost woke once, with the sting of alcohol on his wounds, but the burning died again, and he sank back again.

* * *

After the stairs, there were more winding twists and turns, which Hiko was trying to navigate from the directions pried from an unwilling man. It seemed that even as terrified as that man had been at the time, either he had seen fit to deceive Hiko to an extent or it was simply too easy to get turned around in the labyrinth. It was, after all, a _labyrinth_. There was even the option that Oaka hadn't known his way around as well as he let on.

Whatever the case, a bad choice at some point was made, and Hiko, Kenshin, and Saito found themselves stepping directly into a broad cave that minotaurs were using as a camp. It was littered with their crude weapons, rotten, discarded bovine masks, bones, bits of food, and heavily sleeping bodies sprawled atop each other for warmth. Acts of debauchery were occurring in the darker corners.

They were not spotted, and were able to quietly back out before they were noticed. No one remarked on the decision to retreat. The goal was to leave, not go looking for trouble, not with a wounded man to protect and others to seek out. From what Hiko had learned so far, this place the minotaurs knew well, and their numbers were astounding. No, it was best to avoid trouble when possible. Enough that was unavoidable would come along.

Then there were the wild animals that should _not_ have even been on the tiniest islands of the archipelago at all, let alone deep under one. Kenshin had acquired a fear of wolves, something that concerned his master greatly. Under the circumstances, perhaps he couldn't blame his apprentice for flinching and shuddering as the wolf howls echoed eerily through the caverns between tunnels, but... Kenshin had a simple, direct way of dealing with his fears, even when he was a boy. A fear, once faced, was conquered. Something faced and fought was not to be feared again. Fear was not supposed to lengthen and deepen with exposure. Not like this. Not for Kenshin.

They sensed wolves moving in the deep shadows, but they seemed content to keep their distance. For now. Hiko wondered if there was anything else here, and disliked the images of meeting with starving, half-mad bears or big cats in these dark, close quarters.

Like Saito, Hiko observed that the labyrinth bore a disheartening similarity to hell. He hoped that Kenshin's friends had at least managed to stay together.

Hiko was a better swordsman than he was a tracker--as was Saito. In fact, though never to be admitted by either of the older men, Kenshin was the more talented in that area. But not exactly up to it right now. He was no longer good for much. Hiko kept him on small amounts of sake to dull his pain and stave off the chill, but most of it he saved for the wounds. Infection was no less a battle to be fought than anything else they had encountered, and many, many times it crossed the master's mind that he might be making a mistake not removing Kenshin from this place while he still could.

Still, it seemed useless to consider it. With that sapphire-eyed kenjutsu teacher somewhere here, Kenshin would never look to his healing until he was sure everyone and anyone else was all right first.

Kenshin was stubborn as a pig. That was something no trauma could change.

Injured, malnourished, and now lightly ill, it was unwise to let the forced march be governed by how much Kenshin could take at once so as Sanosuke had, Hiko took to carrying him a good deal, using the warmth of his cloak, steady movement and general quiet and the measures of sake to lull Kenshin into much-needed sleep. It was a deep enough sleep that Kenshin seemed a little heavier and his face was relaxed, if not quite peaceful. He murmured and stirred from time to time. It was again striking how young he looked. Smaller and more vulnerable than his master could ever remember him being.

Looking down into his apprentice's sleeping face stirred up more of that little uncomfortable something that had driven Hiko from his mountain the first place. He tried to ignore it. It was distracting, and yet another thing secondary to survival.

Except, he reminded himself grimly, if he really believed that matters of the heart were less important than survival, he would have done as Saito had suggested and taken Kenshin out of the labyrinth before going on to find the others. However much a nuisance it was to lug the little redhead through the tunnels, Hiko still could not convince himself that it was a mistake.

Kenshin continued to sleep while the older men walked on, attempting to get back to the last place Saito had his bearings. It was already difficult because they were trying to get back there by a different way, and the chances that Kaoru and the others had remained in the same place were very, very slim. The best hope would be that they might meet them coming down even as they headed in an upward, and if not then among them they might be able to pick up their trail. Tracking people in the dark on barren rock was no simple matter, but not entirely hopeless.

The tunnel came to another fork, and Hiko chose a rightward path, Saito following behind him without a word. He glanced down at Kenshin again, the redhead still sleeping deeply. And Hiko sighed, partly for the quiet, and partly because it was the very still and the peace that always came before something particularly troublesome happened.

Saito sensed the moment coming at roughly the same time. Or perhaps, not being as distracted by his thoughts as his companion, a little sooner, because he stopped walking and gave a calm warning just before the walls trembled around them and dust from the ceiling began to shake loose.

The drums had begun again. It was not the first time Hiko had heard them, but they were disturbing, disorienting, and any and all variations of disconcerting. Which may very well indeed have been the point, and yet another reason not to like this place.

Kenshin had woken at the sudden noise, and when Hiko glanced down to check on him he found his apprentice's unusually open, lightly frightened face staring up at him, his manner quiet and looking for direction.

Hiko considered setting him on his feet now that he was awake and had had a little rest, but changed his mind as a larger chunk of rock smashed on the floor next to his boot. So many of these tunnels were becoming more and more unstable all the time. He supposed it was purposeful, that maybe the terrible pounding was also a warning, something to strike fear into the wretches forced to live here, and perhaps even communication to anyone who could understand further away, since he had noticed small changes in the tempo from time to time.

With another sigh of annoyance, Hiko held his apprentice tightly to his chest, protecting his head, and began to move quickly and cautiously while parts of the island fell around them.

Saito moved up beside him. "I think--" he began, and then stopped, ending the broken sentence with a cold expletive instead.

It wasn't as if they had had anywhere else to go when the pounding had begun. There was only forward and back. The decision to go forward had been of a matter of course, even of instinct. The need to move rather than think had been immediate.

That didn't change the fact that Hiko agreed wholeheartedly with Saito's last sentiment when he realized they had run directly into the minotaurs who were pounding on the walls with their great stone hammers.

The ones in front seemed surprised, breaking their rhythm enough to stare, though how they were seeing through their bull heads was unknown. Hiko, though, did not waste time in gaping or surprise. There was a narrow tunnel off the main one they had been traveling, and he darted for it, Saito close at his side.

They were being pursued now. Hiko did a mental count as he ran. Based on the ones he had seen and the sounds of running feet behind him, their numbers weren't anything that he couldn't handle alone, never mind alongside a man such as Saito Hajime. But not with Kenshin to protect and in such tight quarters.

The small tunnel opened up into a wide groove. Hiko was reminded of a meadow after emerging from forest, but now was not the time to think of missing fresh air and plant scents. With only a second to look around, he discovered a grooved corner, cast in shadow. He crossed to it in rapid strides and deposited Kenshin, still wrapped in the cloak into the groove.

He took another few precious seconds to kneel beside his apprentice, who was fumbling one-handed at the cloak, trying to free himself. Hiko caught his hand to stop him.

"Stay _here_," he ordered in no uncertain terms, and with such force that Kenshin pressed back a little into the wall. His face was set with both hurt and stubbornness, and there was little time to attend to either.

Hiko knew Kenshin would not willingly sit in what he would obviously perceive in this moment to be safety while others fought. The problem was, he _wasn't_ going to be safe sitting in this spot. There was only the hope of keeping him from further injury. The more hits one took, the more hits one _would_ take. That was a lesson he had tried to teach Kenshin, but never one the redhead could seem to actively follow. Saying it again now would be even more of a waste of breath than the first time Hiko had said it.

There really wasn't time for this. Hoarse bellows and shouts accompanied the pounding footfalls. At least the hammers had stopped in favor of running to catch up with their prey.

With no inspiration coming to his aid, Hiko went with the basics. "You're tired, injured, one-armed, and lame. You don't have your weapon. So stay here and don't draw attention to yourself. It'll be over quickly."

The same expression was still set on Kenshin's face. It was going to take something a little stronger than the truth to convince him to keep out of danger.

"Time's up," Saito said as the quickest runners barreled into the place they had chosen to make their stand.

Hiko took a deep breath, and said softly, "Please."

Taken aback, the stubbornness slid away from Kenshin's pale face. If anything would get to him, that would. That was all the time he had for driving the argument home.

He was up and spinning around, drawing his sword.

Hiko Seijuro had yet to meet his better in a fight, but he knew disadvantages when he saw them. There was poor lighting. The torch Saito had been carrying was set on the ground, and the minotaurs seemed to be carrying their own lights, so that a little more gathered into the room, and the shadows bounced wildly. They were in an area wider than the tunnels, but it was still so enclosed. There would not be a lot of room for dodging and none at all for jumping.

The first that came at him carried a spear. The spear was longer than the minotaur was tall and made of misshapen but tough wood. It was tipped with a sharpened, jagged stone, but just because it wasn't steel didn't mean it wouldn't pierce.

And just because the weapon was crude-looking didn't mean the man beneath the bull mask wasn't expert in its use. Hiko saw that from the first move when the minotaur thrust for his throat. It was a shrewd move, and faster than the swordsman had ever expected, but he turned it with his sword and in the same movement arched his blade to cut at the minotaurs thigh.

The monster abandoned his attack and leapt back swiftly. In the wake of his movement, another jumped at Hiko in his place, a rusting sword in his fist. He cut low at Hiko's legs, a clumsy move that was easily deflected.

But it was only a distraction. The spearman had an even greater disadvantage than Hiko in these close quarters for the length of the spear. In the hands of one competent, the spear was a deadly and versatile weapon, but only if the spearman had room to maneuver. Otherwise, it was really only useful for fighting in formation, shoulder-to-shoulder with other spearmen in battle.

Proving once and for all that these minotaurs were more than capable of thought, the spearman took the opportunity that Hiko was busy with his comrade and grasped his spear sideways and snapped it neatly over his knee. One might have thought he had just destroyed his weapon, but Hiko's eyes saw nothing of the sort as his opponent now grasped the part of the spear with the point in his left hand and the right a sturdy club. He now had two short, maneuverable weapons.

His fellow stepped back, and the first minotaur attacked again with the same incredible speed in a combination attack, cutting high low and in between. Hiko of course blocked the cuts efficiently and replied well in kind.

Killing the minotaur was an accident, but somehow wasn't entirely unavoidable. If the madman was his only opponent, it would have been a simple matter to spare him, but the minotaur was intent on killing him, and brutal and efficient in his movements.

But not beyond mistakes. A thrust at his torso that Hiko had expected to be blocked pierced through. Hiko drew his weapon back swiftly to be ready, as other minotaurs stepped over the body of their fallen brother and moved toward him.

Hiko would shed no tears over the death of that one, or of any of these others, but he bit back a curse and shot a quick look in Kenshin's direction. The last thing he needed right now was for that little fool to get all bent out of shape because he was sitting there watching people die. The only way that Kenshin _would_ just sit for it was if he was dead as well.

The tenth of a second he took to look his apprentice's way, Hiko could see that Kenshin had obeyed him and stayed where he was supposed to. He was still tightly wrapped in the cloak, and while Hiko had told him not to draw attention to himself, he wished now he had also instructed Kenshin to be ready to move if he had to.

He also saw that Kenshin had not seen him kill a man nor was he even watching the fight or anything going on around him. Instead, his face was turned up, eyes on the ceiling and his mouth slightly open.

Hiko did not have time to wonder what was so fascinating about the ceiling that it had Kenshin completely ignoring the fight, but with another covert glance at Saito, who was slaying at his leisure, whatever it was that had stolen his student's attention, it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

But he knew better than to dismiss it entirely.

Before he could get back into the fight, though, the pounding started again. Most of the minotaurs that had not already engaged Hiko or Saito had withdrawn back into the tunnel.

But the ones who had engaged them continued to fight, now more fiercely than ever.

What...?

"MASTER!"

Hiko pivoted sideways, knocking away a downward stroke, and swiftly looked in Kenshin's direction.

The redhead was on his feet and edging forward, Hiko's cloak caught around his bad arm and dragging on the ground.

At first, Hiko wondered angrily what it _would _take to get him to stay put, but then he saw Kenshin was not as interested in joining the battle as he was in directing his master's attention. When he raised his good hand, Hiko thought he might have pointed at the ceiling since he was so fixated with it a moment ago. But instead Kenshin was looking toward the tunnel from where they had come.

Saito was looking as well, watching as the pounding of hammers ceased. And the reason: because the tunnels had just collapsed directly on top of the ones who wielded them.

Everyone froze, except for the remaining minotaurs and the island itself as more of the ceiling began to cave in.

Hiko dispatched his remaining attackers grimly, keeping part of an eye on Kenshin. Their fighting had been impressive before, but now he realized that they obviously did not care at all for their lives. They were destroying this island, and everyone within was going to die in only a matter of days, including themselves, as they collapsed level after level of the labyrinth. Some people could even be trapped in pockets of air, until that air ran out. Or in areas with some ventilation, to thirst and starve to death.

With every passing moment, it seemed that hell could grow worse.

Then, Saito's voice rang out, sharp like a gunshot. "Move from there, fool! _Move_!"

Hiko swung toward Kenshin again, knowing by instinct at exactly which "fool" Saito was shouting.

Kenshin's back was against the wall for balance, and the stupid boy was even more tangled in the cloak than before as he edged slightly along the wall, his face once again turned upward.

For only a second, Hiko was boggled. If Kenshin, like Saito, was seeing that the ceiling was about to fall, then why the hell wasn't he moving out of there?

_Because I told him not to._

Hiko swore violently and took out his final two charges in a sweeping arc as he bellowed, "Kenshin, come away from there! Come here!"

At his voice, Kenshin finally reacted, tearing his eyes away from the crumbling stalactites, bundling the cloak into his arms and darting in Hiko's direction.

It was in this short moment that Hiko had the time to wonder where all this easy obedience had been years ago when he had needed it. But then the dark-haired swordsman was intercepted by another minotaur, at the same moment Kenshin's way was likewise blocked by another. Kenshin, without defense, backed up again several steps.

There wasn't time for this. Not everyone in this tunnel intended to die, and if they were to live a more stable area had to be found and quickly.

Hiko's new minotaur was a much clumsier fighter than the first he had faced. When he raised a club high over his head, Hiko simply ran him through. Again, Kenshin's attention was fixed elsewhere, and he did not see. He kept slowly backing away, his own minotaur advancing. Hiko's blade sang as he slammed it back into its sheath, and it rang out in a completely different note as he clenched his fist at the guard, tucked in his thumb and snapped it out again. His sword flew from the sheath with all the force and accuracy of an arrow, except that flying out hilt-first made it non-deadly.

The only way it could be when the target was right before Kenshin's eyes. The hilt of Hiko's sword caught the minotaur between the shoulder blades, causing the man beneath the bull mask to howl in agony and then surprise as the pressure point Hiko had aimed for numbed his arms and upper back. Hiko was on him before he could turn or perhaps lash at Kenshin, bringing his wooden sheath down on the minotaur's shoulder at his neck. The man crumpled.

Hiko knew the minotaur would probably die anyway, simply in the cave-in. But Kenshin wasn't going to be around to see it, and maybe there was even a prayer of him not recalling this later on.

For now, whatever happened and its consequences could be dealt with later. If there _was _a later.

Hiko snatched up his sword from the place it had fallen in one hand and grabbed Kenshin in the other. He tore down tunnel, partly supporting and partly carrying the redhead, parts of the island crashing around them. He had not forgotten Saito, but there was no going back and he wasn't willing to break his stride to look over his shoulder to look for him. He did not doubt that a man like Saito would survive a place like this. He had been closer to the stairs when he had seen and shouted at Kenshin, and might have made it to safety by running back down them.

For now, Hiko had enough to do securing his own survival and Kenshin's.

The tunnel broke off into a choice of three directions. There was little time for choosing, and fantastically less time to get there as Hiko was forced to twist away from another cascade of falling chucks of island.

Veering to the left, and hauling Kenshin along, Hiko chose the smallest tunnel, one short enough that he would have to stoop a little. He chose it because it had been formed in a rounding arch, and it was closer to the ground. It would be more stable than the higher tunnels to the right.

He grabbed Kenshin and spun him around, the redhead following his lead but blinded by his own overgrown hair. It didn't matter. If there had been time to explain, then there would have been time to do anything else other than what Hiko had in mind this very moment. In another heartbeat they would both be buried under rock. Hiko used the heartbeat to shove Kenshin backwards through the small tunnel.

Then the island was coming down around his ears and he was going under, unable any longer to stop that from happening. But he could not afford to become pinned. It was either stay on his feet or die.

Bowing his body to protect his head and vitals, he thrust his sword into the wall and slammed the palm of his other hand against the stone of the opposite wall. He locked his knees. There was going to be more injury this way, he knew, and there was, as it all kept falling and his back was nothing but bruises and points of pain and his head was bleeding, blood pooling up behind his ears and running down his neck. The weight on his back and shoulders increased. The pressure became incredible, but he would not go down.

The silence that came was sudden and as heavy as the stone and the darkness. Hiko was hurting enough now to quietly curse himself, parts of his mind demanding to know just why he had taken that extra second to turn Kenshin around before shoving him through the tunnel opening. The answer: because he hadn't wanted Kenshin to try to catch himself on the broken arm and mutilated hand. Amid the ringing in his ears, he cursed himself for stupidity and sentimentality. The boy was going to be the death of him after all. Or maybe it didn't matter anyway, because if that little tunnel had collapsed as well, Kenshin's pathetic body could never withstand this. Immediately or by degrees, he would have been crushed to death. And how had Saito faired?

"Master!? Master!" That was Kenshin, and Hiko's relief that he was correct in guessing the small tunnel would not collapse contrasted with the panic and fear that had pitched Kenshin's voice into a near scream.

"I'm here, Kenshin," he said loudly. His voice, trapped with him in the rubble, was loud in his ears. "Are you hurt?"

"No." His student's voice was shaking with relief. "I'm n-not hurt. Are you all right, Master?"

"Fine," Hiko said through gritted teeth. Vaguely it occurred to him that this was a lie, but he didn't have time to either worry about injury or explain anything to Kenshin. As a test, he lowered his left arm. Rocks shifted, and there was a small amount of relief to his left shoulder. His right arm was still trapped, with the point of his sword still embedded in the wall. He was still unwilling to release hold of his weapon--and possibly lose it--unless there was no other choice.

He heard the sound of shifting from not far away.

"What are you doing?"

Hiko only just heard the soft, patient sigh. "I'm trying to dig you out, Master."

"With one arm."

"If I h-have to. Do...do you see S-saito?"

"No." Hiko's knees began to tremble with strain. "One problem at a time, Kenshin."

Several minutes passed with no further talking, all breath saved for digging and shifting, the slow and careful movement of chunks of stone as both men tried to dig out a path without causing further collapse.

They both froze when they heard the blending murmur of human voices.

Hiko strained his hearing, but he could not discern the words, only hear the rise and fall of heated chatter.

"Kaoru-dono?" Kenshin said softly, hopefully.

Hiko didn't think so. Of course, Kenshin would know the sense of her more intimately than he would, but he could not pick her up anywhere. Moreover these people...they seemed angry. Wrathful. Violent.

They weren't friends.

"Master?" Kenshin's voice was quiet and uncertain. He realized his friends weren't among the ones coming this way.

Hiko shifted his body again, trying to wedge his elbow into space in the rubble. Perhaps with a little purchase he could begin to tease his way out by climbing upwards a little instead of trying to burrow out toward Kenshin like before. He needed to get unburied very, very soon.

He swore softly, doubling his efforts to ease upward. It was more effectual than the burrowing had been, but at the same time the pressure on his shoulders and back was all the greater. Sharp and jagged edges tore his clothes and bit into his skin. He was finally able to move one of his legs, edging a boot up and pushing the toe of it into the rocks. A little more weight was off the one knee and some was eased off his sword arm, at the cost of more strain on the other knee.

And it was slow, far too slow. The voices were nearer.

"Kenshin, is there a place for you to hide?" he grunted. "A place for you to keep out of sight?"

"No, Master. There's n-nowhere t-to go, but a-ahead."

Hiko hissed under his breath as a jagged edge of stone began to press into a spot under his ribs. "You're in clear view?"

"Yes." Kenshin's voice had become strange. "Master, you c-can't move at all? You're very stuck?"

"Kenshin, if I wasn't 'very stuck', I wouldn't still be here."

"Ah," Kenshin said, and this little sound was even stranger than what he had said before. As was the empty silence that followed.

"Kenshin?" Hiko twisted, then wished he hadn't as the rubble that was on him was disturbed and much of it rolled in to crush his lower back.

"_Kenshin!_" Hiko said out loud, and evidently to absolutely no one. "Tell me you didn't run off--"

Because if he did, Hiko was going to forego such a slow torture as honey and anthills and go for the simplicity of just beating the little bastard until he couldn't stand up. At least if he couldn't walk, it would be easier to keep up with him, and there was a chance he might do fewer stupid things! What did he think he was going to do?! Crippled and half-witted and weaponless--if there was a mob out there…

"_KENSHIN_!"

Nothing. No answer. He was gone.

Hiko turned the air blue with curses, but forced himself to remain patient and continued to claw his way upward. Patience that lasted only for a few moments until Kenshin, sounding far away, cried out.

Hiko stopped moving, listening with his jaw clenched as Kenshin's echo rebounded. But it didn't sound like he was crying out in pain or fear. He had called out a word. It sounded like, "_Second_!"

What...?

Hiko ground his raised boot into the rocks and began shoving himself upward again. Minutes trickled by, and he gradually became aware that something else was trickling too. Water. He could feel thin lines of liquid dropping on his face and one shoulder that had been partly bare where his clothing was ripping against the rocks. It was neither blood nor sweat. He could taste it on his lips. It was not fresh water, but salt water.

Seawater. That was _bad_. Very bad. If the island had been so damaged by now that water was leaking inside...

_Damn_ it, Kenshin!

By the time Hiko managed to excavate himself, all the sounds of voices and the shuffle of walking were completely gone. There was no sign of Kenshin except for Hiko's cloak, which was folded neatly and laid by the wall. Leaning over to pick it up aggravated many of his new injuries, but this didn't bother him as much as the wetness that he discovered now on his hip and thigh. He gritted his teeth as he twisted out a small shard of clay that had gotten embedded in his skin. The sake was gone now, jar and all.

Saito came upon him as he was pulling the cloak on over his torn shirt. A look on the Wolf's bruised and scraped visage and torn uniform told him that he had also not quite escaped from the rocks unscathed.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment without speaking.

It might have been an excellent time for an I-told-you-so on Saito's part. But he didn't take it. He only dusted at his shirt and strode past Hiko. "Let's go."

Quietly seething, Hiko fastened on his cloak and shot a last glance at the place where he had been trapped. Abruptly, another chunk of rock fell from the ceiling and smashed into the pile the noise of it unpleasant and oddly shrill. The sound of dripping water could be clearly heard. Reminders these parts would have to be evacuated, and soon.

He turned and followed Saito.

The both of them hurried, as much because parts of the ceiling still fell and the tunnels still trembled with slight, worrisome vibrations as to find Kenshin again.

When Hiko once again heard voices, he adjusted their course without a second thought, until several minutes of jogging brought him up on the last thing he expected to see.

He stopped short of them, momentarily without speech to see not a group of people he wanted to find _now_, but the group of people he had actually wanted to find _an hour ago_. Kamiya Kaoru and her friends stood in a circle, bruised and disheveled, and appearing to interrogate a ragged, rodent-faced man.

Faces turned his way as he and Saito approached.

"Hiko-san!" the weasel-girl shrieked, and she and Kaoru and even the boy...the expressions of shock and pure hope on their faces would have, even a couple of hours ago, fueled his ego but right now Hiko's conceit was quite dampened.

The Kamiya girl rushed to him, stumbling over stones in her path. Then she noticed Saito beside him and her face changed again, tearing her eyes from one man to the other, taking in their faces and appearance.

"Wh-where…" she said, voice cracking… "Where is Kenshin?"

* * *

Author's note:

_Don't kill me yet, else I won't be able to finish the story. ; Kenshin actually has a very good excuse for disappearing. Truly._


	30. Fallible

30  
Fallible

The world no longer made any sense. It seemed there were no stabilities, nothing was infallible. There was nothing constant and reassuring. Tall strong trees with roots planted deep could be shaken apart by swings of a hammer. No matter how much time passed, day could not chase away the darkness. And men who were strong and dependable beyond doubt _failed_.

Kenshin. Aoshi. Saito. _Hiko_.

There was a roaring in Kaoru's ears as Hiko Seijuro spoke. He said he had found Kenshin. He said he treated Kenshin's wounds and took him up several levels in the labyrinth.

He said he lost him. When the tunnels caved in he was separated from Kenshin and then Kenshin left. He _left_. Where, who knew?

Kenshin was lost _again_.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kaoru was on Hiko, pounding on his chest. His chest, which was so deceptively solid and unmovable that he took her abuse for several seconds before he caught her wrists.

Her face was wet, but she didn't care. She felt someone's hands grabbing her shoulders, either Misao's or Yahiko's, but she shook them off, and though the swordsman still trapped her wrists she continued shoving at him in a frenzy.

"Why can't we save him!?" she heard herself screaming at him. "Why!? If it was one of us, Kenshin would have saved us _a long time ago_. Couldn't you see how badly he was hurt!? How could you just lose him?"

"Why isn't he with _you_?" She had to take a breath or pass out, and he chose the moment to slip the question in quietly, still holding her arms.

The soft words were like a slap in the face, startling enough that she stilled and looked back at him, quivering with wordless rage.

He let her go. "He isn't easy to keep up with, is he?" A small flicker passed through his dark eyes, so small she wasn't sure she really saw it. "Maybe if someone had told me he was abducted months ago, _I_ would have found him 'a long time ago'."

She turned away from him, her jaw clenched, and an involuntary sob sucked through her teeth. Her rage was gone, washed away by the brief glimpse of hurt in his eyes. It was true; none of them had been able to keep hold of Kenshin. Somehow he kept slipping through their fingers, and at nearly all times there was the painful irony that it was by actions of his own.

And why hadn't she written Hiko to tell him Kenshin had been kidnapped? _Would_ Kenshin have been brought home sooner if she had?

Another hand on her shoulder. "Kaoru-san?" Misao whispered.

Kaoru wanted to snarl, "Don't touch me!" Her body was bruised, every muscle so sore she wanted to cry from just that reason alone. But she forced her voice to be gentle.

"Just leave me for a few minutes, Misao-chan."

The hand withdrew. Kaoru found a place to sit, face in her hands. Distantly, she heard the voices of the others speaking with Hiko, filling him in, being filled in by him, asking and answering questions. The longest part of their low discussion was not about Kenshin, but at first about the increasing instability of the labyrinth, and then about the Shortsifter and how Aoshi had somehow come to harm from exposure to it. Compared notes on the minotaurs. The Mindsifter.

Kaoru didn't care. Or rather, she did care, but her strength for plan and action was gone just now.

Hiko didn't feel that way. She had to look up, when she heard his decisive voice and sensed him moving toward their prisoner.

"He hasn't been very helpful," Misao, who had been raised by very skilled interrogators, observed. If Aoshi-sama were here--"

"No need," Hiko said. "He'll tell us what we need to know."

The swordsman rubbed at his skinned knuckles with his other hand. The rat-faced man, still held in Sanosuke's grip, nervously tried to edge backwards.

Kaoru stood up, but not to try to intervene. If this man told them where they could find his group, they would find Aoshi. And perhaps they might also find Kenshin.

If Hiko could convince him to talk.

* * *

Kenshin was frightened. Things had gone well out of control.

Being with Master Hiko had been similar to how it was to be with Aijo and Daisuke. The older people knew things better than Kenshin did right now. It was all right to trust them completely, to rely on them until he knew things better himself.

A part of his mind sometimes felt…awful...about the arrangement. Maybe not so much with Aijo and Daisuke, but with Hiko, yes, because in his heart he remembered how easily his own will and his master's could oppose one another. And it seemed a terrible thing that he had to rely on anyone to do his understanding and his thinking for him. Yet he knew he needed these dependable ones until the wounds in his head healed.

Dependable ones… He missed Sanosuke very much. Sano's presence was always very easy on Kenshin's mind. Easier than Hiko, and easier even than Kaoru. Kenshin wasn't really sure why, except that he wasn't as afraid or ashamed of how he was when he was with his friend. And Sano didn't want to do a lot of thinking _for_ Kenshin either, gently insisting the rurouni figure things out and communicate for himself. Kenshin appreciated this very much.

But Sano was…somewhere else. With Kaoru. He would be looking after Kaoru and Yahiko, and this was a comforting and stabilizing thought. But not a helpful one.

There were people coming Kenshin's way, and they were so full of ragged anger and hate that they brought back some of the redhead's earliest instincts since he had been brought to the labyrinth. In fact, these instincts screamed at him, a steady shriek of a single word.

_HIDE! HIDE! HIDE-HIDE-HIDE-**HIDE**!_

He pressed a forearm against his mouth to keep back the whimper rising inside him, and then, with a small flare of spirit, he crushed down the fear, and even spent a moment or two feeling angry at himself for cowardliness. And with his _master_ within hearing distance, no less.

Kenshin took his arm from his mouth and pressed it against his eyes instead, blotting out the quivering torchlight shadows, and tried to think. When the light from their torches touched him he would be spotted. As he had told his master, there really was nowhere to hide, at least not close by. But if he stayed where he was…

Every nerve ending in his body was against being found. He did not know who the people were or what they wanted, but he was very certain that they were the bad kind of Hands. He didn't want those Hands on him, either, and especially not with Hiko just on the other side of the rocks. It wasn't hard to tease sounds out of him anymore, and he didn't want his master hearing him and…doing something rash. Rash like hurting himself or bringing down the rest of the upper level trying to get out of the rubble quickly. Or rash like doing unto these others what they might do unto Kenshin.

He smiled a little to himself, in spite of it all. How he still wanted to protect the lives of ones that he could feel for a certainty carried the will to harm. He uncovered his eyes and looked at his right hand.

_**I am still me.**_

And he could still do something. He had a little intellect left. In fact, he recovered more all the time. Surely there was something…

"Master," he said, voice soft enough that he couldn't be heard by anyone else over the bickering and arguing of the nearing group. "You can't move at all? You're very stuck?"

"Kenshin, if I wasn't 'very stuck' I wouldn't still be here."

"Ah." Of course not.

Kenshin swallowed and then got his knees under him and began moving toward the light and sounds in a crouch.

It was hard to creep along with only one arm, but he managed, keeping low in the shadows, and he got a look at them.

He did not know them, but he knew the look of them. The ragged, pale, even anemic look, wearing clothes of various age and some of them with cloth wrapped around their shoulders and feet for warmth.

He gritted his teeth at another wave of fear that threatened to overwhelm him. The need to run away, to get himself hidden. These people wanted very much to spill blood, and Kenshin could smell it on them. In some ways, these simpler people were more frightening than the bull-people.

Hiko had told him to stay put, and part of him wished he could duck back and stay near his master. But circumstances had changed from when Hiko had given that order. A lot. And it occurred to Kenshin that he would like to tell his master what he wanted to attempt to do now, just so he wouldn't worry…as much. But he had a feeling Hiko would probably tell him not to, and if he said no then…Kenshin would probably do as he said.

His head began to pound, so Kenshin let it go and focused on the task at hand. It wouldn't take long, he decided. The shadows were there, and the hitokiri he had once been still remembered how to use them.

The thought of doing anything as he had as a hitokiri bothered more parts of his heart that it did his mind, even if all he planned to do was sneak. The torn feeling confused him, and the few seconds he took trying to sort it out almost made him miss his opportunity to cut across the group before they got too close to him.

Almost. Face set, he got his good leg under him and darted out just in front of them.

"What was that?" he heard someone say urgently, and pressed himself into the shadows of another shaft, found solely by stupid luck, holding his breath.

He watched as the group veered nervously away from Hiko's location toward Kenshin's instead. The rurouni began moving away backwards as quickly and silently as he could, heart pounding in a mixture of triumph and fear. Triumph, that he had succeeded in gaining their attention without them actually seeing him, and fear for the same reason.

There! He found another disconnecting shaft and ducked into it, still backing away quickly. Trying to divide his attention between the group shuffling after him and making certain there were no threats in the tunnel before him was difficult. More than one thing at a time… He pressed his back against the wall, kept moving, tried to focus on being quiet.

"I don't see anything," someone murmured.

"I saw something, I tell you."

"Well, you don't see it now."

"…No."

Kenshin kept backing away, small, silent steps.

_**If there is something further along this tunnel, I will be caught in the middle.**_

_But what else is there to do?_

They were silhouettes in their own torchlight. "Let's go back," someone said.

_Yes, please do_, Kenshin agreed as another thought struck him that he could easily get turned around and wouldn't be able to find his way back to where Hiko was.

_They could continue the same way, to where Master is._

_**They would find nothing but a pile of rocks and turn back.**_

_Only if Master is quiet._

…_**Yes.**_

Kenshin stayed where he was as most of the group turned around. The one who must have thought he saw Kenshin lingered a moment with his torch until he thought the others were too far away for safety in numbers to apply before he turned and hurried after them.

Kenshin counted several breaths before he crept after them. They weren't headed back the way they came, but they weren't going too close to the cave-in tunnel where Hiko was still trapped either. They chose a low tunnel that most of them had to duck into that was across from where Kenshin was hiding.

The rurouni frowned. He had not seen that tunnel because of the darkness, but realized it was best because if that was where the group was going he would have had to keep running down that tunnel, getting further and further away from his master and with no way of knowing where he was going to end up.

**_Purely luck… And what if they had been heading _this_ way all along? What then?_**

He glanced down the other tunnel, where Hiko was still buried, and saw the light they carried reach to the place Kenshin had been crouching. There was no chance he wouldn't have been seen.

_I had to move, one way or another._

If it was only luck that saved him, then luck was with him, and he should accept it and be grateful.

He let out a long breath, placed his knees on the floor and sat back against the wall to rest for a moment as the last of the group filed into the low tunnel. Once they were gone, he would go back and help his master to dig himself out. Hiko was probably quite worried and angry by now.

But then, as he watched them, a figure appeared among them that he recognized. A tall man, a friend, who was trussed up and dragged along by several ungentle hands. Someone grabbed his head and forced it down so he could pass into the shallow tunnel. Kenshin saw his eyes, wide and unfocused.

"Aoshi!" Kenshin hissed through his teeth.

Aoshi looked like he had been badly beaten, dirty and bleeding from several fresh injuries.

Kenshin waited there on his knees, unblinking as Aoshi was roughly led into the tunnel and from his sight. Kenshin scanned the last few people who went in after, but there was no sign of the others. Sanosuke, Kaoru, Yahiko and Misao were not with them. He wasn't certain if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

But they _had_ to be safe.

His right hand clutched at his knee, twisting the new fabric of the hakama his master had given him. What should he do now?

One answer would be to get back to Hiko, to help him get out of the cave-in, but there was little telling how long that would take and in the meantime that dangerous group had Aoshi. Taking him further away into complicated tunnels that were collapsing besides. What if they couldn't find him again? What would happen to him?

The look in Aoshi's eyes…

More torn than ever, Kenshin trembled, hearing the voices of the group he had been watching get fainter, their steps becoming quieter.

Kenshin glanced down and through blurring eyes he saw a broken, fist-sized stone at his knee. He picked it up, bit his lip as an idea began to slowly form…

Holding the stone firmly by the smoother side, he drew the more jagged part across the stone wall. With the last of the light from the group, he saw the arrow he carved, low on the wall.

It didn't stand out, but it was the best he could do. Quickly he came out of his tunnel and drew another on the stone floor, pointing toward the low tunnel where the labyrinth prisoners were taking Aoshi.

He looked back again down the tunnel where Hiko was still buried. He took a deep breath and projected the word, "_Second_!" down that tunnel, one hand cupped at the side of his mouth. A risk, to call out like that, but the prisoners were only just within hearing distance themselves, and now his master had a better beginning clue. Not the first tunnel from Hiko's, but the second. He should see the arrows on the way. Kenshin hoped.

He rubbed his pained knee, took another deep breath and went after them.

* * *

It was difficult, trying to keep up with the group while also staying outside of their perception. There was once a time when such a thing had been as natural as breathing, but not so much now.

Four, perhaps five times he became lost. Too many choices in the tunnels, and sometimes he was too far away or around a bend and didn't see which directions were taken by the ones he tailed. This would leave him worried and confused, clutching at the walls, his ears straining for echoes to follow.

During one of these times, listening to figure out which way they had gone, he entirely forgot what he was doing. It didn't happen at once; he had been having trouble remembering what it was he wanted to do in the past and what he wanted to do in the future, but it was the present that could become the most muddled. Focusing too much on what he was doing, in the very moment. Still clutching the stone in his hand, he stared blankly at it until the corner of his eye caught sight of a large arrow drawn by rock on the wall.

The connection between the rock, the wall, and the arrow formed quickly by the standards Kenshin had grown accustomed to, but the complete, though momentary, forgetfulness had him shaking where he stood in the near-darkness. Once again, luck had saved him, because the tunnels the group he was following traveled were the well-used kind, with spaced sconces and torchlight. If there had not been enough light for him to see his arrow…

He was frightened. He could forget again. A friend was in trouble, and Kenshin had forgotten him. He began to realize how grave a mistake it could very well have been to leave Hiko's side.

Kenshin wrapped his arms around himself, clutching the rock in his fist tightly. He gritted his teeth, trying to remember now just _why_ he had left his master's side. It had seemed important at the time. Something he didn't want to do, but had to do.

Yes, it _was_ a mistake. He needed someone with him. Someone to help him remember and to decide what was real or not.

"I want Sano," he whispered out loud to himself. He wanted Kaoru as well, and Yahiko. Even someone who was difficult on his mind, like Misao, who moved and talked too quickly and jumped from thought to thought too rapidly for him to keep up. Even Saito's company would be welcome now. He liked Saito little, but Kenshin knew the Wolf still had a sharp mind and his judgment in this, a situation of survival, could be trusted.

Kenshin missed _himself_. He missed the way he was. When he could trust himself, rely on himself. He tried to be that way again. But with each attempt, he seemed only to prove to himself time and again that he was…dependant now.

The truth of it hurt so much that it took his breath away. He told himself that he was getting better. Perhaps he was. But what if it didn't get _much_ better than this?

It occurred to him that he had marked a trail for a long way now. Surely it would lead them at least partway to Aoshi if Kenshin followed his own trail back to where he had left Hiko.

Kenshin looked again at the rock he held, and then clenched his fist tightly around it.

**_No! I _am_ still me! I _can_ do this._**

_I only have to focus._

He knew he had no idea how much further Aoshi and his captors were going from this point. How many twists and turns could be taken between this place and the place they were taking Aoshi. He knew he might not be able to do much for him, but Kenshin couldn't just leave him to fate and hope for the best while he went back for help.

Yes, this was the best decision, he decided firmly. He would keep marking the trail, and if his luck would remain with him just a little while longer, it could lead at least lead Hiko there.

He hesitated only a moment longer, and then stepped forward.

The few minutes of indecision had cost him some distance, but his luck was indeed holding because the tunnel was straight for a long way. Eventually he caught up with them, staying far back so they were mere outlines and echoes and unhappy voices that floated back to him. Though there were no turns, every once in a while he paused and drew another directional arrow on the wall, usually under the sconces where a traveler would be sure to see them.

At least, he certainly hoped so. He paused after marking one, and it occurred to him that it was just possible he could be attracting the wrong kind of attention. Could some people, like Oaka or the others like him see this and follow it? The minotaurs?

Frustrated, Kenshin knocked his stone against the wall. "I _am_ stupid," he whispered.

_No. I didn't think of it right away. But I _did _think of it._

It was a positive note, but it did little to cheer him.

Yet circumstances were the same as before. He kept moving.

And so did they. Relentlessly moving. Kenshin had little sense of time or distance, but it felt like a long time and a long way. The tunnel finally opened up again into more tunnels, and it became important to mark the trail again.

He grew dizzy after a time. They headed into areas that were more damaged in the shakings. The walls were suddenly too wet for him to write on anymore, so he had to get creative, stopping to form arrows with small bits of rubble or finding a dry part of the floor to mark the direction. It was more work, more thinking. A part of it felt good, good enough that his confidence was growing after the setback of forgetfulness earlier as he taught himself to use the meager light to make his marks stand out.

But he began to tire rapidly. A bad tired that made the muscles in his arms and legs throb with every beat of his heart. He was sick once, throwing up partly-digested hardtack and sake. He moved away from the mess and rested his face on the wall, where water was trickling in the grooves and cervices. The water tasted of salt when it touched his lips, and he regretted that he couldn't drink it. He was thirsty. But the water was cool on his burning face.

He let them get too far ahead and got lost for a final time and was forced to explore and then backtrack through four tunnels and a crawlspace before he found them again. Kenshin was trembling and soaking wet with perspiration as he crept up on them through the crawlspace.

It was a camp, and a surprisingly large one. The group he had been tracking had come in from some other way, perhaps one of the openings that were guarded on far sides of the cavern. Again, he had been lucky. If he had followed them directly instead of getting lost, he would not have been able to see inside as he could now.

Memory stirred. Life as it was before Aijo and Daisuke had started making him stay with them all the time was blurred and vague, and full of fear and random mental pictures, like a fever dream. But early on, when he was alone, he used to see places like this.

People thought that there was safety in numbers, so there would be caverns like this. They always smelled bad, like humanity and rot and other unpleasant things. Whenever he ventured in, usually only when he was starving, the people within didn't reject him, but they didn't welcome him either. They sat or lay and existed, until they died.

Kenshin remembered his instincts, which were the only things the Mindsifter couldn't shatter inside him, told him to stay away. Not out of danger, and indeed perhaps it was dangerous _to_ stay away since it was to these larger caverns that the Penna cousins had food, fresh water, and sometimes clothing brought in to sustain their prisoners for a little while longer. And loners like Kenshin ended up licking water off the walls and digging through piles of trash for food bits that had been overlooked. Some of his strongest memories of this time were of choking down lime peelings and trying to chew cast-away fish tails.

Back then, he had been afraid of being in those communal caves because he thought the thick, suffocating sense of hopelessness was something that could seize him and choke the life out of him. His head was full of only bits and pieces, but his instincts were strong. His swords training stayed with him in unexpected ways. He watched hands more than he did faces. Hands that clenched, he fled from, as well as Hands that grabbed for him. Sometimes there were Hands that would extend slowly, palm up. Sometimes as a greeting, or sometimes holding something that was being offered.

There were some Hands he knew and missed. He knew Kaoru's hands well. They were small, and could be rough or soft depending on how she wanted to use them. Kenshin loved those hands as much when they were rough as when they were soft. He also knew Sano's hands. Sano fought with his fists as his main weapons, so his knuckles were scarred and toughened, but Kenshin knew whose they were always, and was never afraid when Sano reached for him, to lead him or to support him when he faltered.

Master Hiko's hands were the biggest and most dangerous of all, but he had a manly grace to him that was as useful to him as a swordsman as it was to him as a potter. Strange, how it wasn't until now that Kenshin realized that the truth of what his master meant and what he actually said could be seen more in his hands than his eyes.

Yet as Kenshin looked over the milling little groups of people holed up together in their cavern, he saw many clenched Hands. That was bad. Angry people in groups were so dangerous.

He forced himself to start looking at heads instead, seeking Aoshi's. He regretted he had to stay in one place and not move around a little more freely, but there was a lot of light in this cavern. In fact, the place was full of wood torches and metal lanterns. So many that Kenshin wondered if the entire place hadn't been used to store them.

He frowned. Tried to make his mind work. Aoshi was here somewhere. He knew it because he recognized a few heads, faces of ones he had been tracking.

With little alternative, he lay down on his stomach and began to wait. It was well that he was hidden, his crawlspace low and dark within, because now that he was at rest, exhaustion and fever caught up with him, pulling him down into deep sleep.

Waking up again was a struggle. His body pleaded for more rest, but it also wanted water. It was the aching thirst, along with the sense in his heart that something was very wrong, that helped him to open heavy eyelids, try to work out with a sluggish mind where he was and what was going on.

He thought he smelled blood.

Forgetting where he was, he pushed himself up far too quickly and scrubbed the top of his head painfully on the stone of the shaft were he had been resting. Beyond a small hiss, he ignored the pain and tried to focus.

He crawled up a little, eyes at first narrowed against the light and then widening in shock.

He saw Aoshi. He was at a distance, and Kenshin's vision was a little blurred yet, but he knew he was seeing Aoshi.

The former okashira was on his knees, wrists tethered to the ground. Curled over to defend himself a little from the savage beating he was taking at the hands of two of the bigger prisoners. His long coat he had been wearing against the chill was gone, and his shirt hung in tatters. His back was striped.

Kenshin was stricken. How long, he wondered, had Aoshi been enduring this while he was sleeping in his hiding place?

_I'm a little sick_, pointed out the part of his mind that was willing to be a little kind to himself. But still, a friend had been suffering a stone's throw away.

Kenshin closed his eyes. Was it worse now, he wondered, than when he had completely forgotten before?

_**Even awake, there would be nothing to do but watch.**_

That was true. But more frustrating Kenshin gripped the rock he still had with him, knowing that if he had his sword, the kodachi, or even just his sturdy old stick, he could do something about this. They _would_ stop hurting Aoshi.

Gritting his teeth, Kenshin cast about what he could see of the crowd, counting sixty heads, but no weapons other than a few broken sticks or clubs, and a few who carried unlit torches wrapped with oiled rags that were probably meant to serve as weapons in a pinch.

He was gauging his ability to rush a stooped-over old man holding a length of wood for a weapon when a short young woman with badly-trimmed hair walked out of the crowd and began barking at the two men beating Aoshi.

Kenshin pressed himself flat, crawled forward a little more and tried to listen.

* * *

Aoshi dreamed awake.

Han'nya, Hyottoko, Beshimi, and Shikijo were in his thoughts. A few other faces, those who had left a long time ago and blended into the new era. Okina… Something in him throbbed when he thought of the old man. He thought of the others at the inn. Where he was master. Where they still followed him, and he was still Aoshi.

Misao… Again a shiver, but this time a different one. Her face… He wanted to see her face in his mind's eye, but it was nothing for him but a blank smudge.

Misao's face… He still didn't understand why this was so important, more important than anything else, but he was well past denying his emotions or acknowledging a lack thereof. Misao was a source of brightness and softness, something that wasn't covered with burns and scars and yet could understand his own, speak the lessons of his life back to him.

Whatever else he felt or didn't feel, he was grateful for Misao's birth, for the place she chose beside him.

Outside of his pondering, they gave up on their lash after a while for fear of killing him. A dead man couldn't tell them what they wanted to know, and they settled for a slower torture. They asked a question, and when Aoshi didn't answer, a sturdy fist was his punishment. His jaw, his stomach, his ribs. Aching, burning. He had known worse pain, but it was relentless and his confusion grew. Sometimes he had to fight just to remember what it was all for, grasping at his fleeing thoughts.

He didn't know what they wanted, almost as a point of giving up on his part, he told them often. Almost automatically. Even without being able to see them, with blood running in his eyes, or when their feeble lights were too close or too far away. "I don't know what you want," became a mantra. Something else to help him let go of reality.

Except part of him didn't _want _it to be that way! It was one thing to lose your mind. It was another to willingly throw it away. But then, it was also one thing to let go of himself, and another to be broken by physical abuse and unbridled hate that rained down on him.

Aoshi did not know what to do.

Again and again he tried to assess his situation. His hands were bound to a spike set in stone, his arms further trapped to his sides and legs also were bound with wet strips of cloth. The cloth was wet, he had at one point realized, because wet fabric was far less likely to rip or break under his struggles than dry fabric.

He kept losing track of things going on around him. In frustration, he tried to comprehend the conversations near him, the track the trickles of traffic people made as they walked past or behind him, but it was the pain that kept stealing his attention and shattering his concentration.

There was a question directed toward him that he didn't catch. For once, it wasn't followed by a blow. Perhaps they were getting tired. He hoped so. He knew he needed the reprieve badly.

For a moment he leaned down, resting his head on his hands. More voice, bubbling out in the shadows. And a voice he thought he knew, a trailed-off, almost reptilian whisper.

He turned his face up again sharply, and blinked away flashes and spots that exploded before his eyes as reward for the rash movement. He scanned the shadows again, the movement of people. He thought…he almost thought he heard Beshimi…

He squinted, part of him wanting to believe as he tried to force the shadows to take recognizable shapes, looking for Beshimi's short, slouched form and the ridiculous hairstyle he had favored.

Someone to his left kicked him hard in the ribs, wrecking his concentration. Aoshi grunted, curling, and his mouth dropped open when he found on the ground just under his face Han'nya's mask. He sucked in his breath sharply, but made the mistake of blinking and the mask was gone.

Aoshi closed his eyes. Someone was shouting at him, but he ignored the words.

Beneath his eyelids he saw Han'nya's face. Not as it was, behind the mask before he died, but how he looked before he had destroyed his face to be more form-fitting to the mask and disguises he had already been talented in conforming to whatever was needed. He hadn't thought of Han'nya this way in years…and yet it was the only face that came to mind now. A slightest hint of a smile, a mere pulling at the corners of his mouth. Real and tender, not like the permanent skeleton grimace showing from the place where he had burned his lips.

Why? Why had he done that to himself? _Why_?

Shuddering with sudden heartsickness he had never known before, Aoshi stared wide-eyed at the place where he had imagined seeing the mask.

_Han'nya! There were more important things to your existence than being of use to _me

His hair was gripped, face jerked up, and a stinging open-palm slap surprised him. His vision cleared, or perhaps it was only his perception.

"Pay attention to me." It was the woman he could remember seeing earlier. Her pinched and angry features were shoved close to his own.

Abruptly she sat back on her heels. Aoshi didn't bother to try to move from his crouch.

"Look," she began, in the tone of someone who wished to make an attempt to be reasonable. "There's no need to be stubborn. It's not like you can stay here anymore either. If you agree to tell us, or even show us the way out, you can go free as well. If you don't, this is all you have to look forward to until you die. Simple, yes?"

"No," Aoshi disagreed, his voice hoarse. "I am not who you think I am. I'm not with Penna Hikaru. I found a way in but I don't know a way out."

"Then it's of no consequence to us if you die, is it!" She stood up suddenly, and Aoshi had the presence of mind to turn his head aside and block the kick she aimed at him with his shoulder.

She turned to the men standing nearby. "Don't get so excited that you forget to listen when he's ready to talk," she said to them, proving that she still didn't believe Aoshi's words.

Aoshi closed his eyes partway and tried to focus his concentration on the ropes binding his wrists. It was actual rope, not wetted cloth. If he could only get his hands free…

_What does Misao look like?_

"What?" he said out loud, his bonds and his tormenters forgotten by the question in his mind.

Misao… Her face… He knew it was there. He recognized her when he looked at her. So why couldn't he call her face to mind, when he could still call even Han'nya's true face from long, long ago?

And why…why was it important, so very important, that he know her face, recall it, see it behind his closed eyelids at will?

Suddenly, and unbidden, there was the sharp memory of that place on the cliff. Of the one called Oaka, and of Penna Tan. Tan's pale, exhausted face, the heavy bags under the eyes. A surprised expression on that exhausted face. The sunlight on the glass and prisms of the Shortsifter that was pulled from inside Tan's clothes. The hastily-formed Pattern, made by finger placement on the upper strings. The bone-cracking terror of the fall, purposely taken.

What had been the last thing he thought of, before he had seen the Shortsifter? What had he held in his thoughts, trying to protect, or perhaps to even draw strength from, in that terrible attack on his mind?

In many ways, Aoshi had thought of his encounter with the Shortsifter as something like a badly-caught blade. One was not harmed at all if one dodged or parried a blade with another blade. But if one caught the blade in his hand, chances were excellent one was going to be cut.

And if one caught the blade badly…

What exactly had Tan intended to do to Aoshi with the Shortsifter? What if he had only meant to _pause_ Aoshi, the way he had to the others at the Kamiya dojo? Had he intended to take something? Would being paused had given Penna's enforcers opportunity to kill him? Had it been folly to back off the cliff to escape? Had he saved himself from a far worse fate, or had he actually caused the injuries to himself, his eyes raking over the Shortsifter's Patterns before Tan had actually meant to use one?

Did he halt the blade badly?

Was it his own fault for all he had lost and was still losing? His mind. Himself.

Misao.

Why was it so important to remember Misao?

He didn't know. But he could feel that if he could just remember her on his own, without having her here, without desperately trying to memorize her features again and again only to forget them as soon as she was no longer in his sight… That was the hardest part. That was the first and most broken connection. If he could only manage that…perhaps all else would come more easily. The hardest part would be done.

That was how it felt.

Time began to move forward again, marked with difficulty and seconds marked by points of pain, heartbeats, and increasingly labored breaths. At first, his world was reduced to thoughts. Then primary colors. And then shadows. His awareness, his focus narrowed more and more. He remembered how it felt now, to meditate, and how the physical could matter very little indeed.

While he searched. For a face within his eyelids. Crawling around inside his own mind. Painfully, like being on his hands and knees on broken glass.

He had to do it. He felt he had to do it, just like this.

And all Aoshi had left to trust were his feelings.


	31. Her Face

31  
Her Face

Aoshi slept.

He saw a baby, months old. A girl-child. She was the color of wild honey and toned with pink.

Memory could recall the look of her, but not the feel. The missing softness and warmth of the infant, quiet and still and pliable in sleep.

The dream changed. Her hair was growing long and she had learned to move around by herself. Toddling, she was into everything, chewing on bits of paper she pulled off books when no one had been watching and losing her balance to fall on her bottom.

More time passed. She caught frogs and stored them inside her clothes where they would wriggle loose and escape at inopportune times, like the evening meal. She doodled on the floor with ink and a brush swiped from Okina's room and threw a fit when she was made to help scrub out her artwork.

She was a vocal child, expressing her thoughts before she could even speak and Aoshi felt a soft moment of wonder as he watched her in his dream walking with sparkles like little fireworks bursting quietly around her, and tiny flowers of brilliant colors grew from her footprints as she ran and jumped in the way that only a free and happy little girl can.

But he always watched her from the back, or saw her face blocked by blankets that swaddled her, or smeared and masked with ink.

By the time he thought to catch her and turn her around to see her face, his hands passed through her and she evaporated like she had been nothing more than a shape made by shadows on the mist.

* * *

His eyes opened sharply, his body automatically bracing for a hit he wouldn't be able to escape. Except no blow came, and he realized what woke him was an ice-cold hand on his shoulder.

He blinked a few times, his vision cleared and his face went slack in surprise.

"Kenshi--" he began, and Himura Kenshin, teeth bared with raw, unrepressed anxiety, pressed the heel of his hand against Aoshi's mouth the silence him.

Aoshi, remembering where he was, quieted instantly, and his gaze moved past Kenshin, sweeping around the cavern.

The area had emptied considerably since Aoshi had last been awake. He was not certain whether he had passed out or merely fell asleep, not being able recall the transition from consciousness to unconsciousness, but it must have been a while. Many of the prisoners who had been questioning him were gone, as was the woman to whom they seemed to listen.

The people who remained lay sleeping, some huddled together, others curled alone close to places of warmth. No one guarded him and, he supposed, considering his condition and his inability to remain lucid even under the shock of pain, and being sufficiently and skillfully trussed up, they had been correct in assuming he had no chance of escaping.

Not by himself, anyway.

He felt relieved, seeing Kenshin alive and in bafflingly better shape than when he had last seen him. So much so that Aoshi was suddenly skeptical that what he was seeing was real. But after a blink or two, Kenshin remained where he was, as he was.

On a closer and more believing inspection, Aoshi noted the warm clothing and new sandals and neatly bandaged wounds. He also saw new, untreated cuts and scrapes, and rock dust on his clothes and skin and in his hair from the cave-ins. He also saw the tremble in Kenshin hands and shoulders, the sweat at his hairline and on the bright flush across his face and decided it had not been such an unbelievable image after all. Having gained some experience in hallucinations, Aoshi was fairly certain that in a dream, one who had come to help would not look so much like he desperately needed help himself.

He had many questions, but decided to start with the basics.

"Are you all right?" he breathed through unmoving lips.

Kenshin nodded once, then seemed confused and started to shake his head, and stopped again. He paused, as if considering that neither answer was quite truthful. Then he shrugged, a very small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

Aoshi felt an answering but infinitesimal crinkling of the corner of his right eye. He recalled a remark Misao had once made, about a situation that could be so "not funny" that it was funny. When there was nothing funny, but one almost felt he had to laugh.

Aoshi felt no urge to laugh, but somehow still sensed this might have been one of those moments she spoke of.

"Are you with the others?"

Kenshin shook his head.

"Saito?"

Another shake.

Aoshi's mouth thinned at the unwelcome news that Kenshin was all alone, but here was help, and Aoshi had needed it in any form. He would make it enough.

He flexed his wrists, suddenly remembering that he had given Kenshin his kodachi. He started to ask about it, but Kenshin was already leaning forward, studying the rope through narrowed eyes.

Kenshin touched the knot with his left hand. Tight and taut there was no way to pull it apart one-handed. Nonetheless, Kenshin grasped the knot with his good hand and dropped his head to catch another part of the knot in his teeth.

Several long, tense minutes crept by, during which Aoshi had time to realize Kenshin did not have the kodachi on him. It might have been lost during his fall.

He waited tensely, his eyes on the sleeping bodies, waiting for the inevitable moment someone would roll over or open an eye and discover them, or the woman and her company would return.

But Aoshi's mind couldn't maintain vigilance for long, and his mind had just begun to wander when he felt the ropes loosen. Kenshin jerked his head once, sideways, and the ropes fell away. Hands numb and hardly believing he was free and still no alarm had been raised, the chance to escape still intact, Aoshi rocked back on his knees. But there was no time to rest or to rub circulation back into his hands. He had to get out of the rest of his bindings.

Since he couldn't break or tear the cloth strips, still damp, he patiently untied the knots of the ones he could reach at his chest, wriggled out of the rest, freed his legs and ankles by loosening his boots. Blood returning to his fingers was painful.

Still no one had noticed he was free. He threw the last of his bonds down, slipped out of his ruined shirt and abandoned it also. Jaw set against the pain of his lashed and beaten flesh, he got to his feet and pulled Kenshin onto his.

Aoshi took a deep breath. "Which way out?" he asked, words no louder than deep breathing of the sleeping people around him.

Kenshin led him through the shadows of the cave and showed him a low shaft. Aoshi closed his eyes in frustration when he saw the way Kenshin had come. The tiny tunnel where Kenshin had fit snugly, Aoshi was too broad. He would have to find another way out.

"I-I'm sorry, A-Aoshi."

"Shh. It's fine." Aoshi whispered. He grasped Kenshin's shoulder and turned him away from the tunnel. "We'll try this way."

Aoshi felt the heat of his wounds trapped in his body as he moved, and also the heat of Kenshin's fever through the clothing covering the redhead's shoulder. There were no weapons between them, and the power of Aoshi's martial arts would be reduced because of wounds and blood loss and cognitive and intellectual disorientation.

He knew he would never be able to recall the way back to the others. If they were all alive and uninjured, he knew they would not have lingered at the site of the cave-in anyway. He also knew that there were always the chances or running back into the residents of the labyrinth. Even without Kenshin to protect, Aoshi was not certain that he could outfight or outrun them as he was now. They had to be avoided, as did the minotaurs and Penna Hikaru or any of his force that may have lingered.

He had no idea where they were, did not know how to get out of the labyrinth, and had no idea how he could regroup with the others. No matter which way he chose to go, there was danger. Danger of becoming irrevocably lost, trapped, captured, or killed. By enemies, if a cave-in didn't get them first.

"What a challenge," Aoshi mouthed silently. He could not, in all his eventful life, recall a more hope-deprived situation. Still, even against such odds it was not in him to give up while he could still draw breath.

_Small goals_, he told himself, keeping a firm hold on both Kenshin and himself. _Small goals. One thing at a time._

Quickly and quietly the former hitokiri and shinobi left the cavern. They paused only for a moment at the entranceway, where Aoshi collected a metal lantern and a long piece of iron with a brass handle and a forked hook at the end that was meant to be used as a tool to stoke fire. As sturdy weapon as he could hope to find.

Outside the cavern the only choices were right and left. Aoshi chose left, and prayed it was a fortunate choice.

They never got around the first bend.

Returning from whatever she might have been doing was the woman in the lead of her followers. She held a lantern, jerking to a stop when its light touched Aoshi and Kenshin. The angry, snarling cry she loosed, Aoshi knew, alerted those in the cavern behind him.

He froze, ready to react but not sure what action to take. But Kenshin, surprising him, stepped in front of him and took the iron poker from Aoshi in his right hand with such a firmness that Aoshi allowed it, feeling the strong instinct that the long weapon would serve better with the redhead, as well as the truth that Kenshin would not be able to help in the coming struggle at all without it.

In a movement that was graceful even with a small tremor in hand, Kenshin raised the poker over his head and then brought it down to hold before his face. In an almost normal tone he whispered, "My luck ran out." Then with his voice just a little higher he added, "Aoshi, I want t-to go home so."

Later Aoshi would not be able to recall all of what happened next, only the sense of desperate struggle and Kenshin's fever-hot shoulder against his in the close confines of the tunnel. The crippled redhead still proving that he could be a danger, especially to unskilled men clumsily wielding torches and clubs.

But Kenshin's agility and prowess were not even a shadow of what it had once been, and his wounded limbs left crucial gaps in his fighting stance. As it was, he dispatched four, perhaps five small waves of men and a few women charging with crude weapons, breaking several bones and drawing a great deal of blood before someone broke through his lopsided defense and cracked him across the face with a splintered table leg.

Of his own battle, Aoshi would remember blood on his fists, the fierce slamming of bodies against the close stone walls, once dropping to his knees to kick the feet out from under a man who was bigger than he was.

Then the dementia hit, stronger than it ever been before, as if his mind had been taken into someone's hands and twisted. Faces warped and voices melded together into nonsensical howling. He clutched his head, and dropped, his senses crushed together and screaming.

And in front of his eyes, widened painfully, he thought he could see Shikijo's broad, bare back, striped with scars. Shikijo…was he moving forward? Or keeping back death from his leader…again?

The shadows swayed, and Aoshi lost sight of Shikijo among the moving shades.

* * *

They put their questions to Kenshin. An ally of Aoshi's, dressed in fine new clothes. They would not believe he was like them. A prisoner in the labyrinth, a victim torn by the Mindsifter.

And their questions weren't posed as gently as they had been with Aoshi.

Kenshin curled as much as he could, trying to protect his vitals. The mace struck him again, this time across the abdomen. Aoshi nearly bit through the inside of his cheek as he watched. There was no breath for the redhead to use to cry out for a very long moment, and then Kenshin drew in air in a strangled gasp, sobbing for breath, blood dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

Aoshi's arms were shaking from the pressure he put on his bonds, but he would never be able to break free. The mace was lifted again. Desperate, Aoshi raised his voice again. "Stop! _Stop_! He doesn't know anything! Truly, he doesn't!"

Dark, shadowed faces turned to him, and Aoshi fought not to close his eyes to the monstrous shades closing in on him, or the darker ones moving over Kenshin. They wouldn't believe it. They just wouldn't believe it!

The mace rose high again, but Aoshi had had his fill of helplessly watching. His arms were pinioned into the stone, but his legs were free. Lurching up with all his might, he threw the lower half of himself over Kenshin just as the mace came down, taking the blow on his lower back. Kenshin's eyes were feverish and pain-glazed as they widened in terror. Aoshi's actions were not lost on him.

"Aoshi--!"

Another blow, this time _meant_ for him struck Aoshi, further up his back. He set his jaw and moved over Kenshin's chest, curling around him as best he could, sheltering him from the bruising, crushing strikes.

"No!" Kenshin's voice near his ear was little more than a rasping croak. "No, stop. Pl-please stop…please…"

Aoshi knew that Kenshin was begging him, not their tormentors, to stop. To not take his punishment. But this was all the former okashira could do, and so he would do it. A phrase came to mind, words that Aoshi thought might have come to him second-hand, though he could not recall who had told it to him or even who had been quoted.

Still, he spoke it. "I won't…" He sucked in a breath as the mace slammed into his ribs, his eyes never moving from Kenshin's. "'I won't let you get away with being miserable." Another blow, to the side of his head. "Just because you won't ask for help.'."

The last blow came to the back of his head, and white exploded before his eyes. But he finished the last of the words, floating out to him from their obscured place in his mind. "'And don't you forget it…'"

From very far away, he thought he heard Kenshin rasp, "_Misao_…" And her fierce, determined face followed Aoshi into the darkness.

* * *

Floating and bobbing on black water were broken pieces of a mirror. Bits and splinters and shards, things which should not have able to float, as light as petals on the water, and shining with faint color and light that came from within the shards instead of reflecting off them from another source.

With hands he could not see, he reached out and touched the pieces on the outer edges. Gently he drew them closer to the ones in the center. Knowing he was short on time, he began to press the jagged areas together, hoping some of them might begin to form a recognizable picture. Might tell him something he needed to know.

An image in the left center formed first. A face. A cherished face. A face still round with youth, but alive with the promise of a different kind of beauty than anything one such as Shinomori Aoshi believed he could ever know.

For the first time in his life, he let go of his inhibitions and touched a feeling that was sparked by this sort of beauty.

He had seen young women that were much more lovely than Makimachi Misao in his life, but there were none that were quite as…_beautiful_…as she was.

The bright eyes, as bold as sunlight. Her smile was full, unrestrained, honest…and somewhat manic. The rest of her was sound and music and motion, a cacophony of nonsense and poetry that he remembered so well now. Every noise, every note. All the shouting, the wailing, the whistles, the laughter.

And for the first time, the very first time…he let himself _love_ it.

In the dark, where he could see the broken fragments floating gently, but not himself, he made a choice with his heart. Then he sealed his decision by tracing his unseen hand over the cracks that separated the parts of Misao's face. By the time he was finished, her image was whole again and he had managed to sum all he needed to say into a single phrase. It was something he had to tell her. That he _would_ tell her.

Time was running out. Aoshi, leaving Misao's likeness reflecting in the center-left of rest of the mess, began searching the other fragments until he found the bits of pieces of something else he needed just now.

Pressing them together, and holding them against each other as they tried to bob apart on the black water, he recognized what he needed. It was a long time ago, when he was a boy.

His very first bondage-escape lesson.


End file.
